


I'm Yours

by msred



Category: Glee
Genre: Broadway Rachel, F/M, New York Puck, The Script
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msred/pseuds/msred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And though my edges may be rough/I never feel I'm quite enough/It may not seem like very much/But I'm yours"</p><p>A lot of things can happen in 10 years. A baby grows into a child – a pre-teen, even. It walks and talks and goes to school and makes friends and becomes an actual person. An oak tree grows 15 feet in 10 years. A television show that lasts 10 years is considered to be a huge success, a veteran by current standards. Hell, anymore a marriage that lasts 10 years is practically a miracle. Ten years is a long time – a decade, a generation, a lifetime by some standards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**“I’m Yours” – The Script {www[dot]youtube[.]com/watch?v=wtVbumrFmzA}**

A lot of things can happen in 10 years. A baby grows into a child – a pre-teen, even. It walks and talks and goes to school and makes friends and becomes an actual person. An oak tree grows 15 feet in 10 years. A television show that lasts 10 years is considered to be a huge success, a veteran by current standards. Hell, anymore a _marriage_ that lasts 10 years is practically a miracle. Ten years is a long time – a decade, a generation, a _lifetime_ by some standards.

For Noah Puckerman, 10 years meant a high school graduation, four jobs and zero careers, a short-lived engagement to the wrongest of girls, and watching his little sister gradate high school, then college, and then sneak off for a quickie wedding and what looked to be a not-so-quickie marriage. He hated to say it, one ‘cause he was more than a little leery of that whole ‘romance/soul mates’ thing, and two ‘cause he wanted to continue thinking of his little sister as just that, but the way Sarah and Aaron looked at each other and spoke to and about each other and just generally _were_ when they were around one another pointed toward babies and grandbabies and silver and golden and maybe even _platinum_ anniversaries  (they reminded him of his Grandpa Joe and Nana Connie, and it was just really sweet, even though he would never, _ever_ say that out loud).

Those 10 years meant just kind of floating through, and bouncing from one project or scheme or grand idea to another and never really going anywhere with any of them. They meant cursing Lima, Ohio and swearing that one day he was going to get out of the hellhole town that all but defined him but never actually doing anything about it. Until he did.

Puck woke up on his 28th birthday and decided he was done. He was done jumping from one job he hated to another that he hated just as much, if not more. He was done walking into the grocery store or the dentist’s office or any restaurant worth eating in and running into an ex (and he uses that term loosely, in many cases) who hated him and stared daggers at him, yet inevitably managed to flirt with him before he got away. He was done seeing the looks of pity the old biddies at temple shot his mom every Saturday morning when they walked in together. In short, he was done being a Lima Loser.

He knew his mom would be sad to see him go; he was really the only family she had left around since Aaron got that job in Indianapolis and Sarah moved away, but he also knew how sad it made her to see him living the life that he was. She spent his entire childhood trying to teach him how not to be his father, and he was finally going to step out of Eli Puckerman’s shadow. His ma would understand that, even if it meant picking up and leaving Lima, and everything about it, behind.

He quit his job without so much as a two-day, let alone a _two-week_ notice. He didn’t figure it really mattered, since he had absolutely no intention of ever unloading stock and cleaning back rooms again, at Best Buy or anywhere else. He packed everything that would fit into his two suitcases and Grandpa Joe’s old Army foot locker and threw them into the back of his truck, then sold everything else for $200 to the kid who was taking over the lease on his apartment. He spent his last night in Lima in his old room just down the hall from his ma, then got up the next morning, kissed her goodbye, and climbed into the truck with his guitar occupying the passenger seat. When she asked him where he was going, he lifted one shoulder and answered, “Dunno. Hadn’t really thought about it. New York, maybe.” A couple silent tears slid down her face, but she nodded and gave him a small smile, like maybe she knew something he didn’t, or maybe she just expected that all along.

To be honest, he really _hadn’t_ thought about where he was going before his mother asked, but as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he figured New York was as good a place as any to start over. It didn’t matter that once he got there he had no more idea what he was going to do than when he left.

When he pulled into the city, he decided that, for one night, that didn’t really matter. He drove in what felt like circles until he finally saw a motel that looked like a balance somewhere between what he could really afford and somewhere a civilized human being would choose to stay. He didn’t care that the whole room, bathroom included, was about the size of the walk-in pantry in his ma’s kitchen. It seemed clean enough – it certainly didn’t _smell_ disgusting, anyway – and he didn’t hear any gunshots or an alarming abundance of sirens, so he figured the place was good enough for him, for a little while, anyway.

~.~

Puck was on the sidewalk by 8 a.m. the next day. Regardless of how it may have seemed in high school – he just really thought school was for chumps, okay? – Noah Puckerman was not afraid of hard work. And he knew there was no way he was going to last more than a week in New York otherwise. So because going back to Lima was just not an option, he was determined to find a job. That day, if he played his cards right.

Later, at lunch, thinking things through over what had to be the best hot pastrami on rye ever made, Puck shook his head and wondered why people complained so much about the economy. He’d been in the city for about 14 hours, job hunting for about four, and he’d already landed not one, but two jobs. Okay, so the two were kind of connected, but whatever.

The third place he’d walked into after getting off the subway at Times Square (because hell, why not, right?) was a random little music store called ‘The Band House.’ When the clerk, some high school punk who looked like he wouldn’t know a bass from a bass drum, went to get the manager, Puck picked up one of the demo acoustic guitars and, without thinking or planning, started to play.

“Neil Diamond. A classic.”

Puck’s head jerked up from the instrument when he heard the manager, a small man who looked to be at least in his 60s, speak to him. “A musical Jewish icon,” he replied with a smirk. “Sir,” he added quickly, lifting the leather strap off his shoulder and replacing the guitar on its stand to extend a hand to the older man.

“So, what can I do for you son? You in the market?”

“Nah, I got my own baby. I-I was actually kind of hoping there was something I could do for you.” Puck squared his shoulders and looked at the man straight-on, projecting his best honest, genuine image. “I just got into town – sir,” he coughed a little into his fist and tried his best to make it look like he wasn’t completely uncomfortable using the term of respect, “and I could really use a job. I love music, and I only play guitar and piano, and bass and drums a little -,”

“Only, huh?” The older man chuckled.

Puck continued, ignoring the interruption, since that seemed to be the safest course of action, in terms of like, respect and politeness, or whatever, “-but I’m pretty sure I could answer any question about anything in here.”

“Let me get this straight,” the manager crossed his arms over his chest and leveled Puck with a questioning look, “you’re brand new to town,” Puck nodded, “and you walk in here, pick up one of my cheapo display models and play ‘Sweet Caroline’ like, well,” the man laughed lightly, “like no one your age should be able to, and you want me to hire you to sell guitars you’d probably give your left arm to _play_ to spoiled Manhattanites who’ll go home, break the strings after a day and never pick ‘em up again?”

“Umm,” Puck rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “yes?”

The manager let his head fall back and let out a full belly laugh. “At least you’re honest. Alright kid -,”

“Uh, I’m 28, sir.”

“Right, you gotta job, under two circumstances, _kid_ ,” he looked back at Puck, amused, as Puck nodded his head enthusiastically, “one, don’t ever, _ever_ call me sir again. You think I’m old or something?” Puck’s eyes widened as he shook his head, “Alright then, I’m Abe. And you are?”

“Noah Puckerman. Puck, if that’s alright with you.”

“Whatever,” Abe shrugged. “Second condition, you open every weekday, six to two. Take about an hour or so break, then come back and give lessons. I know it makes for a long day, but trust me, it’ll be worth it. You’ll make more money givin’ private lessons for three hours a day than you’ll ever get outta me, but ya gotta work for me too, ‘cause the prick at the insurance agency says I can only let full-time employees give lessons here on account of the liability, or whatever, and those lessons bring me a lotta business too, so I’d like to keep ‘em around. You don’t even have to give me a cut of what you make, just, ya know, encourage ‘em to open their wallets a little bit wider while they’re here. All that sound doable, kid?”

“Y-yes – yeah! That sounds awesome.” If Puck had _ever_ been the hugging type, he was pretty sure he would have hugged Abe so hard he might have broken a few bones. Seriously, dude was old.

**_You touch these tired eyes of mine  
And map my face out line by line  
And somehow growing old feels fine  
I listen close for I'm not smart  
You wrap your thoughts in works of art  
And they're hanging on the walls of my heart_ **

When he finished his lunch, Puck left the deli and decided to go looking. He wasn’t looking _for_ anything, exactly. It was just that he figured he might as well get a little familiar with his new neighborhood while he had the time. And okay, it wasn’t exactly like he lived there. Yet. But that’s where he would be working, and he figured, eventually, it’s where he’d be living, too. Besides, the job hunt had taken a lot less time than expected, so he had a free afternoon in front of him. And the idea of going back to his shitty motel, with its tiny room and three television channels, was just depressing.

So, he walked. He walked from the deli back toward The Band House, just to make sure he had his bearings. Then, he walked back toward Times Square, laying out the route that would take him to work every morning. At least, it would until he found a place of his own. When he got there, he just stood for a minute, taking all in. He didn’t want to be, like, all touristy, or anything, but he hadn’t taken the time that morning to really let it soak in, and no matter how much he tried to play it off, he knew it was a big deal.

After a few minutes had passed and he felt he was about to cross the line from appreciating his new circumstances to, like, gawking, he started walking again. He had no particular destination in mind, so he just turned and took off, ending up on 42nd Street. It didn’t take him long to realize he had walked smack into the Theater District. The realization brought a smile to his lips as his mind involuntarily conjured up images of long, dark waves of hair and wide, shiny, chocolate-colored eyes. He laughed at himself when his own eyes started to play a trick on him, transforming the chick on the _Mamma Mia!_ poster on the side of the bus stop into the same pint-sized ball of passion and energy that he’d just been remembering. Only, the longer he looked, the more it became clear to him that his mind _wasn’t_ playing tricks on him. That really was the same hair. Those were the same eyes. Those were the same lips and the same cute little hands and the same nose. Definitely the same nose. _And thank God for that._

It wasn’t that the poster itself surprised him. In fact, he would have been shocked to learn that there wasn’t a Broadway poster somewhere with her face or name on it. He just wasn’t expecting to see it – to see _her_ – so soon after getting into the city. He also wasn’t expecting the way it made him feel. He expected to feel something, of course. He figured he’d be kinda nostalgic, and definitely a little turned on (she’d been hot 10 years ago, no reason to think that woulda changed by now), but the last thing he had counted on was homesickness. That wasn’t to say he missed Lima. Hell no! He’d been outta that shit town just over 24 hours, and already they’d been the best 24 hours of his life. But there was just this feeling she stirred in him, a feeling he’d _always_ gotten with her, of contentment and warmth and just belonging. He knew that the hollow feeling in his stomach and chest was directly linked to the fact that he had been without that feeling of belonging, that feeling of home, for about 10 years. And once the homesickness washed over him, he had to wonder how he had even made it through the last 10 years without her there to push him along. And it wasn’t like he’d spent all that time like, wallowing, or whatever. To be honest, he rarely even thought of her unless someone brought her up. But now, seeing her face again, even in a photograph and buried under stage make-up, in _her_ city, made him feel like he needed to see her for real. He needed to talk to her and have her tell him that she believed in him and that he was _never_ a Lima Loser, even if it had taken him 10 years to figure it out himself. He didn’t really know why, but he _needed_ her to tell him that he was doing the right thing and that he wasn’t going to fall on his face. He needed the girl who cornered him in the choir room and gave him a very _loud_ , very _angry_ , 15-minute lecture about how he could – he _would_ – be something amazing one day when he made that comment about being dead or in jail in response to Mr. Schue’s ‘where will you be in 2030?’ question; the same girl who nearly tackled him off the stage a couple weeks later when it was just the two of them left in the auditorium after he admitted that he really did care about graduating.

Puck scanned the poster until his eyes landed on the words ‘New Amsterdam Theater.’ There was no address, but he figured t couldn’t be that hard to find, considering that every way he looked he saw theaters. It took him about an hour (he had doubled back a couple times and no _way_ was he going to ask an actual New Yorker for directions and prove just how new he was) but almost randomly, he found himself standing directly in front of _her_ theater.

“Hey.” The kid in the box office jumped and looked up from the book he was reading when Puck spoke to him. “Yeah, I uh …” he shuffled his feet and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “I never done this before, so I don’t know if you gotta like, buy tickets way in advance, or …”

“You alone?”

“Huh?”

“We’ve got about 10 empty seats left for tonight, but they’re all singles.”

“Yeah. It’s just me.” Puck half-way expected the kid to act surprised or give him a once-over or something – he certainly would have given a second look to someone who looked like him buying theater tickets for just himself – but the guy only nodded and tapped away at the keyboard in front of him. He guessed it _was_ New York, after all. Kid had probably seen way weirder shit. “Hey, uhh … Rachel Berry is gonna be performin’ tonight, right? I mean, I saw her name on the sign, I just wanted to make sure.”

The kid snorted a little as he chuckled at Puck’s question. “Oh yeah. She’ll be out there. They say the worst job on Broadway right now is to be Rachel Berry’s understudy. Director had to actually ban her from the theater for three days when she twisted her ankle in rehearsal and it swelled up to the size of a softball. Baseball,” he corrected himself, leaning closer to the glass and looking at Puck as if he were sharing insider information. “She’s _really_ tiny to begin with.” He sat back in his chair almost smugly and held out his hand expectantly.

Puck smiled as he handed over his debit card, and the kid grinned back proudly, so Puck knew he thought he had succeeded in impressing a Rachel Berry fan. Puck was really smiling because it made him happy to be reminded that, if nothing else, some things never changed. “And, is there like, any way I could see her before or after the show?”

“Wouldn’ta pegged you to stagedoor,” the teen snickered.

“Huh?” Puck didn’t mean to like, _sneer_ , or whatever, but he figured he must have, if the way the kid stiffened and straightened his face was any indication.

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “Umm, yeah, if you wait by the side door after the show, a lot of the actors come out and sign autographs and stuff. Miss Berry does it pretty much every night. Hey,” he stopped, the hand holding Puck’s card and the ticket for the play paused halfway to the opening in the glass, “you’re not some crazy stalker psycho or something, are you? If Miss Berry turns up like, floating in the Hudson next week or something, I _will_ remember what you look like.”

Puck couldn’t help but laugh at the kid’s delayed, and misplaced, worry and his ludicrous almost-threat.

“Don’t worry. I’m cool.”

The young man behind the window gave him one last look, his eyes traveling critically from Puck’s head to his feet, before finally approving, if the fact that he handed over his ticket and card was any indication. Puck smirked when he thought about the mohawk that used to be his trademark and how it would have really thrown the kid for a loop.

“Well,” the kid was smiling again, no doubt ready to impart more Rachel Berry wisdom. “If you’re going to bring flowers, Miss Berry likes -,”

“Lilies. I know.” Puck grinned when the kid’s face shifted from proud and almost smug to slightly disappointed. “Thanks though. For everything,” he lifted the hand holding the ticket as he backed away from the window.

~.~

Puck was really glad he was wearing his job hunting clothes – his lone pair of khakis and the only button-down shirt he owned that wasn’t plaid – because it meant he hadn’t had to go back to his crappy motel room and change for the show. He still felt a little underdressed compared to some of the people around him, but he also saw some people who looked a little worse off than he did, so he figured he was doing okay.

When the show ended, he hung around in his seat while the rest of the audience cleared out. He told himself that he was just waiting because he didn’t want to fight the crowd and because he knew Rachel wouldn’t be out yet anyway, but there was a part of him, a tiny little part that he tried really hard to ignore, that was just kind of - stuck. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he’d kinda had the breath knocked out of him a little. Rachel had always been an amazing singer, there were no surprises there. And he knew she was a talented actress as well. He just wasn’t quite prepared for the _presence_ she would have. The Rachel Berry he had just spent two and a half hours watching owned that theater and everyone in it. She was nothing like the lonely, insecure girl he used to throw slushies at. She did bear some resemblance to the confident, determined young woman he had become friends with and graduated high school with, but this new, fully grown Rachel put even her to shame.

When the theater was empty save for the ushers making their way up the aisles, Puck finally got up to leave. Part of him felt silly as he made his way out to the side exit to wait with the middle-aged women and obviously gay men, but another part reminded him that he was badass. If anyone could make it cool to stagedoor (and yeah, he just got the stupid term that the kid at the box office used), it was Puck. Besides, he wasn’t just some starstruck fanboy (although yeah, he did feel just a little starstruck) trying to get a glimpse at Broadway star Rachel Berry. He was Puck, and he just wanted to say hey to his old pal Berry. Maybe he brought a bouquet of those big pink and white lilies that look like stars. Just a friendly gesture – no big.

Puck positioned himself near the end of the line, hoping he might get more of a chance to actually, like, _talk_ to her that way. Even though he couldn’t see her through the crowd (‘cause she certainly hadn’t gotten any _taller_ in the past 10 years), he knew when Rachel emerged from the theater. The low murmur of the fans rose to a dull roar as Rachel Berry made her way down the line, signing autographs and accepting flowers and other gifts before passing them off to the (very large) man at her side.

By the time she had made it halfway down the line, Rachel’s head pretty much stayed down, her eyes darting up to look through her lashes with a smile as she made a few seconds’ worth of small talk with each fan while scrawling her name across the playbills. When she reached Puck, about six people from the end of the line, she kept her eyes on the playbill he handed her as the pen flowed over the paper.

“And who should I make it out to?” She was just finishing up her signature (metaphorical) star as she asked the question and hadn’t yet looked up from the paper.

“Just write, ‘To the badass Puckerone.’”

The pen jerked to a halt and Rachel’s eyes flew to Puck’s face just before the pen fell out of her hands altogether.

“Noah!”

At that moment, Puck thanked God for his quick reflexes. Rachel launched herself at him, seemingly oblivious to the crowd around them and the fact that she still had fans awaiting her attention.

“When … How … Why …” Puck laughed as Rachel pushed herself away from him, shaking her head and struggling to find the words she wanted. Finally, she took a step back and disentangled her arms from his, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her summer dress. “What brings you here, Noah?”

He just shrugged as he presented the bouquet that he only barely managed to keep her from crushing when she flew at him. “I was in the neighborhood,” he smirked.

Rachel took the flowers from him and buried her nose in one before speaking again. “Are you busy? I mean, do you have some time?”

“For you babe, I got all the time in the world.” It was dark, so he couldn’t be positive, but he was pretty sure he saw her blush.

“Wait for me outside the box office. Don’t. Go. Anywhere.” She punctuated each word with a quick poke to his chest. He backed out of the crowd, offering her a mock salute, and walked back toward the front of the building. He couldn’t help but smirk when he glanced back over his shoulder to see that, unlike all the others, which had been quickly handed off, the bouquet he had given Rachel was cradled in her left arm as she signed autographs with her right.

Puck smiled when Rachel came skipping – literally – around the corner, flowers still in hand. “You were amazing.” He spoke close to her ear when she threw her arms around his neck for another, much _gentler_ hug. When she pulled back, he could see the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. “Hey,” he tilted her face up, palm gently cupping her chin, and frowned a little as he studied her expression, “you okay?”

“No,” she laughed a little and swiped at her eyes with her free hand. “I mean, yes, I’m just …” she reached out and squeezed his bicep. “It’s just really great to see you.” She smiled almost hesitantly, then brightened. “I know you said you have time, but how much? I mean, have you eaten? We could grab a late dinner, if you want. Or there’s a great little café just a couple blocks away. They have wonderful coffee, and they even have some vegan-friendly pie options. Oh!” she said suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to her, “Maybe you would prefer drinks. I mean, I don’t drink a lot but -,”

“Coffee and pie is fine,” he cut her off with a grin.

“Okay,” she smiled back at him sheepishly. “Well, I have a vase in my dressing room. Let me just take care of these,” she held the flowers out to him, “then we’ll be on our way. I’ll be sure to take them home tomorrow.” She fingered a petal absent-mindedly. “They’ll look lovely in my living room. They’re perfect for the end table by the window.” Puck nodded and started to fall into step with her but she stopped him with a hand to his forearm. “No need. You stay here; I’ll be right back.”

“But,” he frowned at her as she continued to walk away.

“No, it’s fine, really. Marcus, one of the security guards, always hangs around by the door until everyone is gone, and I _know_ Linda hasn’t left yet.”

~.~

“No way, I don’t believe it. You’re gettin’ swindled Rach, cause there is _no way_ that pie is vegan.” Puck nearly moaned as he took another bite of Rachel’s banana crème pie. (And if it really was vegan, which, no way in hell, how could they call it banana _crème_?)

“I promise.” She grinned smugly back at him. “I’ve even seen the dairy substitute myself. I was as skeptical as you are the first time.”

Puck didn’t continue to argue, but he did push his own slice of chocolate pie aside when she gently nudged the rest of her banana crème toward him.

“I meant it before, ya know,” Puck spoke around his last mouthful of Rachel’s pie. “You really were amazing.” She smiled brightly at him. “You _look_ amazing, too.” Rachel blushed furiously and shook her head a little, ducking it and taking a sip of her coffee. “Seriously. Prob’ly better right now than you did in the show, even. I mean, without the costume and make-up and everything – just _you._ ”

“Thank you, Noah.” Rachel was still blushing, but she lifted her eyes to meet his again. “You look quite good yourself.” Her eyes roamed over his face then down to study his chest and arms.

Puck snorted. “Right. Look Rach, I know you’re like, the queen of good manners or whatever, but let’s get real here. You look just the same as the last time I saw ya. Hell prob’ly better, if that’s possible. I look _old._ ”

“Noah,” she sighed and shook her head, “you’re 28.”

“I know how old I _am._ I said I _look_ old. You’re just a few months behind me, and your face is flawless. I. Look. Old.” He punctuated the statement by scrubbing a hand over his face as if to emphasize the creases beginning to form.

“Noah, look at me,” Rachel’s right hand crossed the distance between them, pulling his hand away from his face and pinning it to the table as her left hand lifted to his forehead, fingertips just skimming the faint lines they found there. “You don’t look old. You look like you’ve lived.” Her hand fell a bit and her fingers ghosted over the slight crow’s feet at the corner of his right eye. “You look like you’ve had to work and scrape for everything you’ve gotten.” His eyes fell closed as she dropped her hand again to let her thumb outline his lips and trace over the small, fresh wrinkles that were no doubt a result of the constant smirk he had worn for as long as either of them could remember. “You look like you’ve spent your whole life proving people wrong and fighting for what you deserve.” She smiled, letting her hand linger by his mouth. “But you don’t look old. You look strong, and brave, and wonderful.”

Puck cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure how to react to what she had said, or to the fact that she was still touching him. So, he didn’t. He opened his eyes and sat stock-still, staring at an invisible spot on the table between them. After a few seconds, when she moved her hand and his eyes were drawn to the movement, he snapped out of it, his eyes focusing on her left hand until it disappeared under the table. “So … Berry. Is that like, a stage name?”

“No.” She shot him a small smile. “Legal. Finn and I broke up a couple years after graduation. It was amicable, thankfully, but a separation nonetheless.”

He knew that. It wasn’t hard to figure out when Finn had shown back up in Lima, alone, after being in New York for only two years. But eight years is a long time. Puck didn’t think it was unreasonable to believe that she could have found someone new to share her life and her name with in that time.

“And since then, well,” she shrugged as if it was really no big deal to her one way or the other, though that was hard for him to believe. “I just haven’t been that close to anyone. Romantically, I mean. And what about you, Noah, do you have a wife waiting for you back in Lima? I mean, I would hope if you do have one that you haven’t left her back in a hotel room for the past several hours.”

The defensive part of him wanted to ask why she automatically assumed he still lived in Lima, but then he remembered that, while he rarely spoke to them, he saw her dads most Saturdays at temple. The smart ass part of him wanted to point out that if he had brought a wife with him to New York, leaving her in a hotel while he came to Rachel’s show probably wouldn’t be any worse than holding her hand across a cool metal diner table, which he had been doing for the past several minutes. But he thought if he mentioned it, she might pull away, and he had to admit that he liked the way it felt to have her little hand resting on top of his.

“Nah. Haven’t taken that leap. Kinda came close once,” he lifted one shoulder, hoping to convince her that he wasn’t upset about it and didn’t need, like, consoling or whatever. “But it fell through before we got all the way.”

“I’m sorry, Noah.” Rachel furrowed her brows and squeezed his fingers a little in her own. “I don’t want to pry, of course, but if you want to talk about it, I hope you’ll remember that I’m a very good listener.”

He did remember. “Not much to talk about, really. It was a few years ago. We’d been dating for a few months, sure as hell wasn’t true love or soul mate material or nothin’.” He scoffed a little. “Then we had a scare. Ya know, the Beth kind,” he added when her head tilted a little to one side. “I couldn’t do that shit again, so I convinced myself we’d be good together eventually and that it was all worth it for the baby I thought was in her belly. Bought a ring and everything.” He chuckled darkly. “But then, there was no baby after all. I mean,” he added quickly when Rachel gasped, “she didn’t like, Terri Schuester me or anything. It only lasted a couple months, maybe not even that, then she tried to tell me she lost it, but she couldn’t pull _that one_ off. So then _I_ lost it and said some pretty shitty things, even under the circumstances, and we haven’t spoken since. Kept the ring in my glove box for a good six months ‘till one day I was in Cleveland seein’ some bands and I drove over Lake Erie just to throw the damn thing in.”

Puck was used to getting all kinds of reactions at that point in the story. There was the obvious pity that was to be expected in such a case. There was more than a little judgment for his behavior in the whole thing. And he had seen pretty much every emotion between the two at least once.

Rachel only nodded. “That sounds very cathartic. Expensive, but cathartic. And sometimes the monetary cost is well worth the emotional payoff. So,” she smiled brightly, “how long are you in town? I mean, I can take you around, show you some of my favorite places, if you would like. Is your hotel near here?”

Puck relaxed into the booth. Telling people that story never really left him feeling all that great, but then, Rachel Berry wasn’t exactly ‘people.’ At least, not in the common, overly general sense of the word. And he didn’t know how she knew exactly when to change the subject, but the change was very welcome. “Uhh … Indefinitely, sounds cool – if you’re up to it – and not really.” He watched her eyes roll back a little as she nodded her head, ticking off his answers and matching them to her questions in her mind.

“Okay,” she drawled, once she had the information straight in her head, “I’m not sure what ‘indefinitely’ means, of course I’m up to it – I would _love_ to spend some time showing you around my city – and where is ‘not really’?”

Puck smirked. “’Indefinitely’ means I don’t really plan on leavin’, it’d be pretty awesome to have somebody who knows what they’re doin’ give me some pointers, and the Bronx, I think.”

Rachel’s breath left her in a huff. “Can we speak in complete sentences now? I have far too much to say to that to continue this silliness.”

Puck grinned and ducked his head a bit before nodding for her to continue.

“Alright then. Well, I am really quite curious to know what brings you here indefinitely, possibly even permanently, but I’ll save those questions for later. And since that is the case, and I believe you will need my assistance even more than I had previously thought, I now proclaim myself to be your official guide to all things New York. With me on your side, it will be no time at all before you’re being mistaken for a real New Yorker.” Rachel wrinkled her nose a bit, “Except for your accent. But I wouldn’t want that to change. Your voice is lovely as it is, singing and otherwise.” Puck smirked at the blush that crept up her neck and over her face. “And finally, no. You’re not staying in the Bronx.”

“Umm, yeah, I’m pretty sure I am.” He chuckled and nodded. “I mean, I know I’m the new guy in _your_ city, but you don’t even know where the motel _is_. I think I might know a bit more about this one than you do.”

“Of course,” she waved her left hand flippantly, the right one making no move to leave its resting place atop his, “I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise. What I meant was, starting tonight, that is no longer where you’re staying. _Especially_ now that you have said the word ‘motel.’” He had to grin at her dramatic little shudder. “It’s probably even worse than what I was imagining.”

“Look Rach, I’m not broke, exactly. I mean, I didn’t leave Ohio with empty pockets or anything, but I didn’t know how long it was gonna take me to find a job, and even though I found one today, I got no clue how long it will take me to find a place to actually _live._ So, this place is basically clean, and as far as I can tell, it’s safe enough, so as much as I appreciate your offer to show me to some nice, 5-star place or whatever, it just makes more sense for me to stay where I am.” Puck squirmed a little in his seat. It wasn’t easy for him to show weakness or admit vulnerability or whatever the hell it was he just did with that little speech.

“Oh Noah,” Rachel sighed and shook her head a little, her eyes fluttering closed for a second before she continued, “I should not find myself even a little surprised that you automatically jumped to the defensive. But that isn’t what I was suggesting, at all. I’m not one to spend someone else’s money. What I was _actually_ suggesting,” her fingers began to trace over the back of his hand distractedly as she spoke, “was that you should – you _will_ – come stay with me.” She shook her head, holding up her free hand to cut him off when he opened his mouth to argue, “I have more than enough room and I could not consider myself a decent friend, I would never forgive myself, in fact, if I didn’t share that with you while I have the opportunity.”

“Look,” he sat up straighter in the seat and ran his hand over his closely cropped hair, “I appreciate the offer Rach, really. But I don’t wanna, like-,”

“Impose? Intrude? Get in the way? Whatever it is, Noah, forget about it. You won’t do any of those things, trust me. You said you already have a job, and I seriously doubt that your work schedule will match up to mine, so I’m sure we won’t possibly get in each other’s way. I’ll let you take care of your own food – which should end up being much better for you than whatever you would be eating if you stayed in that place, since you will have not only unlimited access to my kitchen, but also increased funds due to the fact that you will not be paying for a room – and I’m sure that I won’t even see a change in my utility bills with you there.” Rachel stood from the table, twining her fingers with his and tugging him from his seat on the other side of the booth. “I insist, Noah,” her voice was softer, showing some vulnerability of her own as she looked up at him, “I want to do this. Please let me.”

Puck sighed, his head dropping until his chin hit his chest, and squeezed Rachel’s hand for just a second. “Look Rachel, I appreciate the offer. You have no idea. But I don’t want you to think that I looked you up tonight to get something from you. You get that, right?” He watched as she nodded. “And I don’t want either of us to let this go from you helping an old friend to me taking advantage of an old friend. We clear?”

Rachel nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course Noah. I understand completely. Going only off of what you have told me since we’ve been here, I have to imagine that you have come to New York to have independence, to break out in some way, and I wouldn’t dare take that away from you. I just want to be a good friend to you.”

When Rachel smiled up at him sheepishly through her lashes, Puck almost took a step back. Since the moment he’d seen her picture on that poster, he’d seen nothing except Rachel Berry bluster and confidence. He had almost forgotten that somewhere in there, even if she was tiny and buried incredibly deep, was a scared, insecure girl who had spent half her life being bullied and defending her right to have big dreams.

“Fine,” Puck laughed under his breath when Rachel squeezed his hand between both of her own and bounced on the balls of her feet. “But I mean it Berry, soon as I start to like, interrupt your life, or as soon as I can find a place of my own, whichever comes first, I’m outta there.” He ducked his head and regarded her seriously.

“Yes, of course,” she grinned widely. “We’ll go get your things right now and you’ll come to my place. And it will absolutely be temporary, of course.”

**_I may not have the softest touch  
I may not say the words as such  
And though I may not look like much  
I'm yours  
And though my edges may be rough  
I never feel I'm quite enough   
It may not seem like very much  
But I'm yours_ **

It wasn’t temporary.

When they left the diner, Rachel dragged Puck to the nearest subway station (and he was really thankful she was with him at that moment, because if she hadn’t been, he would probably have walked all the way back to Times Square) and made him direct them back to his motel. Once there, she proceeded to send Puck up to his room to get his things while she argued with the night manager about consumers’ rights and taking advantage of out-of-town customers who don’t know better until she pointed to a young couple climbing the stairs and mentioned the words “pay-by-the-hour establishment.” The man quickly agreed that, though it was well past check-out (about 12 hours past, actually), Puck really only needed to pay for the one night he had actually slept in the room. Puck caught most of the exchange from his spot by the door where he waited, luggage in hand, and was equal parts impressed and terrified, and honestly a little turned on.

_(“You know, you were right,” she told him once they were buckled into his truck and headed back toward Manhattan and her apartment, “that place really wasn’t that bad, all things considered.”_

_“Really? ‘Cause I was waitin’ on you to go after that prostitute and tell her how immoral and, like, **dirty**_ _she was.”_

_“Oh Noah,” she actually giggled, “she wasn’t a prostitute. They were tourists. Kentucky or Tennessee, if I had to guess. Maybe Georgia.”_

_“Seriously? Then how come they didn’t get the riot act about stayin’ there?”_

_“They are a young couple trying to enjoy New York, probably for the first time. I couldn’t bear to take that away from them. And I only have one guest room, so it was either you or them. Would you like me to go back?”_

_“I’m good.”)_

Their first two days as (not) temporary roommates were spent getting reacquainted with one another and getting Puck acquainted with the city and his new neighborhood (which just so happened to include The Band House – hells yeah!) between Rachel’s shows. She showed him to her favorite restaurants, both fully vegan and vegan-friendly, the hole-in-the-wall coffee place that she claimed was the best in the city, and the deli that he had already managed to find on his own the day before. They spent most of the time that Rachel wasn’t working or playing tour guide sprawled out on her couch sharing details about the past ten years of each of their lives. Although the time wasn’t spent void of all physical contact (it was much easier to let her guide him through the city streets with her arm looped through his, and after her two shows on Saturday, Rachel swore that if Puck’s conscience ever nagged him about staying with her rent-free he need only come find her to put his “magic fingers” to use giving her another foot rub), it was spent pretty innocently – exactly what would be expected of two old friends after a long separation.

On day three, Puck was surprised to emerge from the guest bathroom to the smell of coffee. He’d already been in bed when Rachel came home Sunday night (Monday morning) but he vaguely remembered stirring to look at the clock when he heard her bedroom door click softly closed. It was nearly one. So for her to pull herself out of bed at five to make coffee for him was more than he expected, even from Rachel Berry. And then he was just plain shocked when he came down the hall to see her curled up on the chaise end of the couch, one hand resting on the arm and curled around a mug of her own, the other clutching her Kindle.

“Good morning, Noah.” She sat the Kindle onto the cushion next to her and smiled up at him over her cup, seemingly unfazed by the fact that the only thing covering his upper body was the towel draped across his shoulders. “Pink is definitely your color,” she giggled and narrowed her eyes a little, still not lowering the coffee.

Puck grabbed the ends of the towel where they hung down onto his chest, not exactly sure what he planned to do with them. “Yeah, uhh, it was on top. Sorry, I didn’t expect you to be up. I’ll just -,” he started to turn back toward the hall and the guest room at the end of it.

“Don’t be silly.” He turned his head just in time to catch Rachel standing from the couch and shaking her head at him. “I’m a big girl, Noah, I can stand the sight of a man’s bare chest. Even one as lovely as yours.”

Was Rachel Berry seriously like, checking him out?

“So,” he only shook his head at what he thought might have been mischief in Rachel’s expression and followed her into the kitchen, “you always come in at one in the mornin’ and get back up before five?” He gratefully accepted the cup of coffee that was extended toward him.

“No,” Rachel turned to unplug the coffee maker and push it back to its spot against the wall, “on both counts.” She took a sip of her coffee and watched, pleased, as he moaned appreciatively when he took a drink of his own. “I usually come straight home from the theater, but since the lights of Broadway are dark on Mondays, the cast and crew often go out after our Sunday show. As you know, I’m not a big drinker, but on those nights I usually indulge in a drink or two and enjoy the company of my co-workers.”

Puck held his coffee cup in front of his mouth to hide the grin that her avalanche of words caused, ‘cause even after all this time, she couldn’t just say, ‘Went out for drinks with the guys.’

“And as far as getting up,” Rachel turned to set her cup on the counter and shrugged. “I wanted to see you off on your first day of work – you know, to wish you well and everything. Of course, that would have worked better if I had thought to find out what time you planned to wake up. Or leave.” She ducked her head when Puck chuckled. “But luckily, I heard you moving around in the bathroom.”

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Puck winced a little, but Rachel only waved him off.

“Don’t be. Like I said, I wanted to be up. Okay,” she pulled the mug from his hands and turned him toward the bedrooms, “I may be able to handle you shirtless, but I don’t know that the rest of New York, specifically your new boss and his customers, will take it as well.” Puck laughed as she pushed him out of the kitchen.

~.~

On day six, Puck stumbled out of the bathroom with toothpaste film still in his mouth, tugging his shirt up onto his arms and fumbling with the buttons.

By sheer accident, he had still been awake when Rachel got home the night before. So far, he’d been really good – really _responsible_ – about going to bed at an appropriate time for his 4:45 wake-up call, but that night he just couldn’t fall asleep. He wasn’t sure why, exactly, but whatever the issue was, it meant he was on the couch with a beer when Rachel came in. Her being home didn’t make it any easier to go to sleep, since she dropped onto the couch next to him, took a long draw from his beer, and began telling him how many things had gone wrong for her that evening. Around one, with Puck sprawled on the chaise and clutching Rachel’s tiny feet in his lap, and Rachel laying the length of the couch, both finally fell asleep. If it hadn’t been for Rachel’s pea-sized bladder and the two and a half beers she had consumed while pouring out her heart, he probably wouldn’t have woken up for another several hours. As it was, he’d only had about 15 minutes to get ready for work, from shower to shoes.

Puck was still fighting with his shirt, having fastened the buttons incorrectly the first time around, when he got to the front door and stopped to shove his feet in his shoes. He had the door cracked, one hand on the knob and the other trying to fix the heel of one of his sneakers, when Rachel emerged from the kitchen with a travel mug in her hand.

“Thought you might need this.” She handed the mug over to him and watched as he took a careful sip. “Sorry about keeping you up last night. I feel truly awful.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Couldn’t sleep before you got home anyway. Besides, been here almost a week, about time to pay the rent, I guess.” He winked and Rachel giggled, blushing slightly pink.

“Noah, wait.” He had one foot out the door when she called out to him. He stopped, and when he turned to face her, she was only inches from him. “Just let me …” she pushed up onto her tip-toes and reached until her arms encircled his neck. He was about to ask her what she was doing when he felt her fingers tug at his collar. She worked her way around to the front, gently straightening and flattening the plaid fabric as she went. “There, much better.” She patted his shoulders twice, but instead of backing away, she pushed herself a little higher and kissed his cheek gently, her lips lingering for just a second. “Have a good day.” She finally backed away, swiping her thumb over his cheek to collect any sheer lip gloss, which was somehow still on her lips when she woke up (he remembered thinking she could do one of those lipstick commercials), that had rubbed off with the kiss.

~.~

She kissed him again on day 10.

The first thing he had pulled out of his drawer that morning after his shower was, not surprisingly, a plaid button-down. He didn’t bother buttoning it, since leaving it open afforded him a much greater range of motion at work, and between reaching for things in both high and low storage areas and giving lessons, that range was valuable. And he may have noticed, when he passed the mirror over the dresser on his way out, that his collar was flipped up on one side. It was no big deal, really. He just figured Rachel would fix it if she noticed, you know, being a girl and having an eye for that sort of thing and all. And if she didn’t notice, he’d just fix it in the elevator. The walls were basically a mirror anyway.

She noticed.

She came out of the kitchen when she heard him coming down the hall. She didn’t even wait for him to reach her, setting a black travel mug full of fresh, hot coffee (the same one she’d provided him with the previous Friday, after he told her how nice it was to have it to take with him on Thursday) on the small table just inside the door where he dropped her mail when he came in every evening and where they both left their keys. When he reached her, she pushed up as close to his level as she could get, and, without saying a word, rested her left hand on his right shoulder for balance and reached around his neck with her right. She straightened the collar, but didn’t let go when she got to the front. Instead, she used it to pull herself up, pulling him down in the process. But she didn’t kiss him on the cheek again. And it wasn’t even the kind of soft, timid kiss he would have expected – _if_ he had expected her to kiss him on the mouth at all. No, this was the kind of kiss where he could tell not only what flavor lip gloss she was wearing (something peachy), but also what kind of non-dairy creamer she had used in her coffee that morning (cinnamon-vanilla). After about a .2 second delay, he kissed back, and he was really glad she had set the coffee down instead of handing it to him, because that meant he had both hands free to grab her hips and hold her to him.

After several seconds, or minutes, it was kind of impossible to tell, to be honest, Rachel loosened her grip on his shirt, and after another few seconds Puck let go of her hips, letting his hands just rest there instead of holding on. “You’ll be home when I get back from work?” he asked when she took a step back.

“It’s Monday,” she nodded, reaching for his coffee and passing it off to him.

“I’ll bring dinner.” Puck accepted his coffee with one hand and dropped the other to pat her backside.

~.~

On night 10, Puck slept in a bed outside Rachel’s guest room for the first time since that first night in the Bronx. On the plus side, the bed was in Rachel’s master bedroom.

Now, here’s the deal, in case it wasn’t already completely obvious, Puck changed. He grew up – a lot – after high school. So he didn’t think that one (great, awesome, really hot) kiss meant that he would come home that evening and Rachel would just fall into bed with him. Hell, he wouldn’t have thought that even in high school – not with Rachel, anyway. But he brought home dinner as promised from one of the vegan-friendly restaurants she had shown him during that first weekend he was in the city, and when they’d finished eating she asked if he wanted to watch a movie. He agreed, but instead of leading him to the couch, where they spent most of their weekend, Rachel disappeared into her bedroom.

“Coming, Noah?”

He must have spaced out, because he was still hovering over the trashcan where he had just dropped their take-out containers when her voice floated down the hall and grabbed his attention.

“On my way.” Puck stepped into the guest room along the way to kick off his shoes and shed his button-down, tossing it onto the dresser instead of putting it away. “Sorry,” he started on his way into the room, “I got … distracted.”

“It’s okay.” She smiled up at him from her spot on the bed, propped up by a stack of pillows resting against the headboard. “Hey,” her brow furrowed, “go change. Get comfortable.”

Puck really looked at her outfit for the first time since coming home. Rachel looked plenty comfortable in the cotton shorts and slightly oversized t-shirt she had probably put on straight from her shower that morning. One of the things she had told him about herself was that, since Monday was often her only day off, she tried to not even leave the apartment if it wasn’t necessary. He kinda loved that grown-up Rachel was so comfortable just being herself – no make-up, simple clothes, no fancy hair – with him.

“Just hurry!” Her voice carried across the hall, “I figure we’ve got just enough time for the movie before you fall asleep on me!”

Puck chuckled under his breath at her demand as he slid off his jeans and stepped into a pair of basketball shorts. He considered shedding his t-shirt – she did tell him to get comfortable – but decided not to push his luck.

Rachel figured right. Literally and almost scarily so. Less than five minutes after the movie ended, as she was flipping through the channels absent-mindedly, Rachel felt his first snore before she actually heard it. Puck’s head rested on her stomach, his arms wrapped around her waist as he used her as his own personal pillow. She gently nudged him onto an actual pillow and slid down into the bed, turning into him when, instead of releasing her, he wrapped his arms a little tighter around her in his sleep.

~.~

On day 11, Puck woke not to his alarm, but to Rachel calling his name and rubbing her fingers gently over his scalp. “Morning, sleepyhead,” she grinned down at him from her seat on the edge of the bed when his eyes focused on her. “I hope you don’t mind, I let you sleep in about 10 extra minutes. But I’ve already started the coffee. And some oatmeal. I even got maple syrup the other day. And I turned on the bathroom heater a little while ago.”

“’S cool,” he mumbled hoarsely, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He reached for her wrist when she nodded and rose off the bed. “I mean,” he started when she turned back toward him, “thanks. I just … you don’t gotta do all that, ya know. Take care ‘a me, I mean. You’re doin’ enough by givin’ me a bed to sleep in.” He chuckled. “’Specially when it’s yours.”

Rachel only shrugged. “I wanted to do it. All of it.” She bent, one hand on either side of his waist, to kiss his forehead.

Puck lifted a hand to run through her hair as Rachel pressed her lips to his forehead, and when she started to pull away, he used that same hand to pull her back until her lips met his own. He tugged gently on her bottom lip and slid his hand around to her cheek before letting her go. “I’m glad.” He just hoped her idea of ‘all of it’ was the same as his.

Apparently, day 11 was also the day that Puck officially moved out of the guest bedroom and into the master. Rachel was already gone when he got home from work, as usual, but she left him a note on the hall table, also as usual. However, unlike her usual, “Dinner’s in the oven,” or, “Didn’t cook today, sorry,” (‘cause her whole him fending for himself food-wise thing lasted like, a day before she just started doubling everything she made, usually leaving him tips on how to make it ‘carnivore-friendly’) or even the simple, “Have a wonderful evening!” that she left when she had nothing in particular to tell him, her note that day informed him that she had spent her morning doing laundry, including all the clothes in his hamper and the bedding from the guest bed. She went on to explain that all of his clothes had been neatly put away in the closet and dresser in the guest room, except his pajamas (he assumed she meant the basketball shorts and t-shirt he’d worn the night before, since he didn’t own actual pajamas, and he’d spent every night in the guest room in just his underwear), which were folded and waiting for him in ‘his’ bathroom. Finally, the note ended by saying that the bedding was still in the dryer but that he shouldn’t worry about it because she’d take care of it later.

A quick survey of the apartment showed him that everything the note had said was true. And he was left to assume, based on the fact that she hadn’t replaced the bedding in the guest room, that she didn’t mean for him to sleep in there. He wanted that to be enough for him to feel comfortable going straight to Rachel’s room when the time came that he would normally be going to bed, but it wasn’t. He’d been burned by assumptions – even what should be really solid ones (when the good little Christian girl gives you her virginity, it means something; when that same girl gets pregnant after just that one time, she’ll finally let you in; when another girl comes along eight years later and knows the whole fucked up story and then says _she’s_ pregnant, surely to God she must really be) too many times. So he got comfortable watching a _How I Met Your Mother_ marathon on Nick at Nite, nodding off until Rachel came in just after 11 with a gentle tug on his hand and a soft, “Come on, Noah, let’s go to bed.”

~.~

On night 24, Puck and Rachel laid in bed, Rachel on her stomach, feet cutting casually through the air behind her and her Kindle resting on the pillow in front of her, and Puck on his back, one hand behind his head and the other tangled in Rachel’s hair, television remote resting on his bare stomach. Puck loved Mondays because, while he and Rachel had slept together every night since that first time she invited him in for a movie, Mondays were generally the only nights they actually got to go to bed together. Even a badass (hell, probably _especially_ a badass) preferred going to sleep with a beautiful woman wrapped in his arms.

“Rach,” he started, not entirely confident about what he was getting ready to say, but positive that it needed to be said, preferably before he got in too deep to dig himself out if her response wasn’t what he needed it to be (although, honestly, it was probably already too late for that). He waited for her hum, although she didn’t lift her head from her book, to continue. “Are you sure about this? Us, I mean. Are you positive you want all this?”

“Are you not?”

Puck had expected the question, or some form of it. Seriously, even if she was way more secure and way less high-maintenance than her high school self, those words out of the mouth of the guy you were sharing a bed with were pretty much a guaranteed way to set any girl off. What he hadn’t expected was the calm way she asked it, or the fact that she didn’t even look up from her Kindle until she had, apparently, finished her page.

“I mean,” Rachel continued when Puck didn’t answer right away, “I know I never exactly asked, more or less just telling you what to do – or where to sleep. I just figured, based on what I’ve always known of you, that you would speak up if you wanted something different.”

“No, this is definitely what I want.” Puck let his fingers slide through her hair then slid that same hand under her chest to pull her to him, waiting until she had settled almost fully on top of him to continue. “I just … It’s fast, Rach. And I don’t want you to think it’s too fast, or that you’ve made a mistake.”

“I’m not that girl anymore, Noah,” she lifted a hand and traced his jaw with her fingertips, watching the movement for a few seconds before she continued. “I’m not high school Rachel Berry who thinks everything has to be perfect for her all the time, laid out exactly according to her plan. I’m more confident now, authentically so, not the kind of superficial confidence that makes me feel like I have to throw myself in everyone’s face. And I’m more than willing to work for what I want,” she shifted and ran the back of her hand over his cheek and down his neck until it rested in the crook of his shoulder, “but I refuse to play games. I won’t say that I’ve fixed every negative thing about myself from when we were younger; I’m still loud, sometimes demanding, and often overly ambitious, but I know I’ve grown. So,” she smiled sheepishly and curled her hand around his neck to tickle the hairs at the back with her fingertips, “are you still sure that this is what _you_ want, even with the reminder that I’m still as high maintenance as ever, but yet not exactly the girl you remembered, and possibly hoped to reconnect with?”

“Let me make this clear, Rach,” she watched him with wide eyes as Puck rolled his own and lifted a hand from her back to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re not the problem here. I _know_ I want you, but I don’t want you to wake up one day and look at me and think, ‘what the hell am I doin’ with this asshole who used to slushie me on a regular basis and generally made my high school life miserable.’”

Rachel pushed herself up with one hand, using the one still wrapped around the back of his neck to pull him forward and kiss him softly. “Oh Noah,” she breathed against his lips before lowering herself back onto his chest, folding her hands and dropping her chin onto them. “When are you going to get it?” She smiled almost sadly up at his confused expression. “You’re not that boy. You haven’t been for years. You are a strong, mature, responsible, _good_ man. You take care of your family – don’t think I don’t know about the money you send your mom every week. You stuck around Lima for years longer than you wanted to because you needed to be sure about what you were doing instead of jumping into something headfirst. And you’ve been here with me for over three weeks, and every second of that time you’ve only reinforced how much I love being with you and how wonderful you make me feel.” Puck wrapped his arms tighter around her and craned his neck down to kiss the top of her head. “So Noah, we’ve both changed – grown – over the past 10 years. But over the past three weeks, I’ve been happier than any other time I can remember. And that’s because of you. Because you’re mine.”

~.~


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You healed these scars over time/Embraced my soul you loved my mind/You're the only angel in my life"
> 
> It was ridiculous to even consider that he was anything other than completely in love with her. It was just so easy. Like, not that their relationship was perfect, or effortless – they each had days where he knew they were working their asses off to keep this thing they had together. But loving her? Easiest thing he’d ever done.

**“I’m Yours” – The Script (part II)**

**_You healed these scars over time  
Embraced my soul you loved my mind  
You're the only angel in my life  
The day news came my best friend died  
My knees went week and you saw me cry  
Say I'm still the soldier in your eyes_ **

On day 47, Puck said ‘I love you’ for the first time. Like, ever.

Rachel had taken to coming to spend his break with him once or twice a week. At first, he felt like he was putting her out in some way (because Lord knows she’d already done more than enough for him), but she argued that a late lunch fit perfectly into her schedule. Besides, he learned very quickly that it was pointless to try to argue with her about anything at all. She did reassure him that she only came by on days when she was already out of the house anyway. He wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t just saying that to placate him, but he enjoyed their lunches too much to say any more about it.

Most days, through a quick text exchange, they simply agreed on a meeting place somewhere near The Band House and by the time he got there, a drink would be waiting for him and she would have already ordered his lunch. On day 47, she showed up with an honest-to-God picnic basket and said she thought maybe he would like to go to Central Park instead. He would have taken one look at her and laughed at how lame and childish the whole thing was, if he wasn’t too busy finding her absolutely fucking adorable in her little sundress and sandals, hair falling over her shoulders and wide eyes staring at him all big and hopeful like she actually thought he might say no.

“Yo, Matthew,” the sulky teen looked up at him from behind the counter, “tell the old man I went out for my break. Be back about …” Puck looked up at the clock over the kid’s head, “3:30. My first appointment’s at four.” Matthew only shrugged and dropped his eyes back to his phone, but not before giving Rachel a none-too-subtle once-over. “Little prick,” Puck mumbled, throwing an arm possessively around Rachel’s shoulders and planting a kiss on her temple.

“Noah,” she chastised, whacking his stomach with the back of her hand. “He’s your boss’s grandson.”

“And?” Puck sighed and rolled his eyes, back-tracking to wrap an arm around her waist and take the picnic basket out of her hands with the other when she stopped just outside the store to look at him reproachfully. “Ain’t kin to _me_. ‘Sides,” he smirked when she looked up at him incredulously, “Abe likes me better anyway.” Rachel crossed her now-free hands over her chest and cocked her head to one side, regarding him skeptically. “Don’t worry babe,” he leaned in to kiss her pursed lips, “I’m nothin’ but nice,” she snorted, “ok, _civil,_ to his face.”

“Promise?”

“’Course, Rach. I gotta good thing goin’ here. Not plannin’ to screw it up over some 18-year-old, sulkier, less hot version ‘a me.” He squeezed her hip and got her moving again, guiding them toward the park.

Matthew was already gone by the time Puck got back to the store and Abe was sitting behind the counter on a stool that he forbid both Puck and Matthew to sit on, telling them they hadn’t lived long enough to earn the right to sit down on the job. “Well kid, you sure work fast.”

“What’s that, old man?” Puck let the door close behind him with a tinkle of the signal bell, craning his neck a little to get a last peek at Rachel, swinging her little basket and bouncing along on the balls of her feet, before she rounded the corner toward their apartment. “Think you need to readjust your dentures,” Puck smirked and gestured to his own mouth, “you’re babblin’ again.”

“Watch it, kid.” Abe pointed at him and scowled _almost_ menacingly. “These pearly whites are all natural. Now, I can arrange for _you_ to get some dentures, if you want.” He shook a fist playfully in Puck’s direction.

Puck would never say it out loud, of course – neither man would want that – but he kind of loved his relationship with Abe. Less than a week into the job, the two had fallen into an easy, playful banter that made the time at work feel like anything but.

“And you know what I’m talking about.” Abe tipped his head toward the door and the sidewalk outside, where Puck had just shared parting words and a gentle kiss goodbye with Rachel. “You told me in the beginning you came up here alone, so I guess you found somebody new awful quick.”

Puck ducked his head and smiled to himself as he made his way to the back corner of the store to set up for his first lesson of the day. “I found Rachel all right, but I wouldn’t call ‘er _new_.” He looked over his shoulder to see that Abe had left his stool and was standing only a few feet behind him, one eyebrow cocked expectantly. Puck heaved a deep breath and turned to face his boss, dropping onto the chair he used when he taught. “We went to high school together. We were friends,” he lifted one shoulder, “kinda seemed like we coulda been more a couple times.” Puck chuckled a little under his breath. “Then she went and got her shit together about 10 years faster’n me.”

Abe laughed openly. “Yeah, well, ya figured it out eventually, I guess. Looks like you did a pretty good job too.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder as if Rachel were still just outside the door. “She’s cute.”

“Yeah,” Puck snorted, “screw you, old man. My girl’s smokin’.”

“My apologies,” the older man chuckled. “Jewish, too, if the radar hasn’t fizzled out in my old age.”

Yeah, so by some stroke of fate – or coincidence, seeing as New York City has the highest Jewish population of any city in the world – Puck came into the city and strolled right into a little music store owned by the coolest little old Jewish dude, like, ever. Abe and his wife had already invited Puck to spend Hanukkah with them, insisting that he at least had to come by for the last night because, ‘no one should be alone on the eighth night of Hanukkah.’ It was September.

 He had no doubt the invitation had just been automatically extended to include Rachel. “Yep. Managed to land myself a nice Jewish girl.”

Abe snorted. “Yeah, well, she’s gotta be more than just nice to put up with you.” He moved to pull up another chair for Puck’s soon-to-arrive student. “What’s she do, anyway? Must be somethin’ good to carry your sorry behind.” He didn’t try to hide the amusement he got from his own joke.

“Hey,” Puck leaned forward in his chair, resting an elbow on his knee and pointing accusingly at Abe, “I pull my weight.”

“Yeah, thanks to me.”

“Whatever,” Puck lounged back into the chair, legs spread wide, one arm hanging over the back of the chair and the other laying lazily across his lap. “She’s an actress. Broadway.” He cut his boss off when the old man opened his mouth to say something, most likely to question the legitimacy of Rachel’s career. “She’s been headin’ up _Mamma Mia_ down at the New Amsterdam since the first of the year.”

“’At’s impressive,” Abe nodded before breaking into a grin. “My Evie loves the shows.” He shook his head a little. “Woman thinks Babs is the be-all, end-all.”

Yep, Rachel definitely just scored an invite to Hanukkah with Abe and Evie. And Puck knew exactly what to get the couple. He’d talk to Rachel first chance he got about getting them a pair of tickets for sometime in December or January.

“I’m impressed with you, too.” Abe reached over to pat Puck’s forearm before groaning a little and pushing himself out of his chair. “You must be doing something right to get a girl like that to fall in love with you.”

“I don’t know about -,”

Puck stopped abruptly when Abe’s open hand hit the back of his head. “Guess she still needs to teach you a thing or two. You don’t argue with your elders. I know what I’m talkin’ about, kid. I saw the way that girl looked at you.” He shrugged at Puck’s glare. “What? I’m an old man. I’m allowed to be nosy. Besides, it’s my store, I can do what I want to. Anyway, I know that look. My Evie has that look. Your Rachel couldn’t be more in love with you if she tried.” Abe walked away just in time for the chair to be filled with Puck’s first of three students for the afternoon.

Puck was pissed at himself when he left work that night. With him, it had always kinda been ‘what you see is what you get.’ And yeah, maybe that wasn’t always the best thing, like when he was throwin’ kids into dumpsters or dousing them with fire extinguishers. But at other times, like when you were paying him to do a job, it meant you knew up front exactly what to expect. That was what you paid for, and that was what you got. Only, thanks to Abe’s big mouth, the three clients he’d ‘taught’ that night got totally screwed, and not in the good way. He just couldn’t turn off his damn brain, and the only thing it wanted to think about was the idea that maybe, since Abe pointed it out, it wasn’t completely ridiculous to think that Rachel loved him. But more than that, the longer his brain went in those freakin’ circles, he realized it _was_ ridiculous to even consider that he was anything other than completely in love with her. It was just so _easy_. Like, not that their relationship was perfect, or effortless – they each had days where he knew they were working their asses off to keep this thing they had together. But loving her? Easiest thing he’d ever done.

It kind of hit Puck – not that it was surprising, he just hadn’t really thought about it before – that he’d never said ‘I love you.’ Not to anyone not related to him by blood, anyway. He’d felt some form of it for Quinn when she’d carried Beth, and he’d confirmed that when she’d asked just hours after Beth was born. But he never actually said the words. Then he’d thought he felt it for Shelby, even attempted (really unsuccessfully) to talk to her about it, but it turned out he’d loved Beth. And he’d loved that _Shelby_ loved Beth, and that she _had_ Beth, and most of all, that she was willing to share Beth with him, even for just a little while. He never even came close to saying it to his short-term fiancé, which, okay, probably should have been a big flashing neon sign when he was walking into the mall jewelry store to buy the first ring in his price range. Yeah, yeah. Hindsight. Whatever.

He wanted to be awake when Rachel came home, because now that the words were in his head, he just needed to get them out. (And some frantic, irrational part of him was almost scared that she was as impatient to hear them as he suddenly was to say them. In fact, he almost had himself convinced that if he didn’t say it soon he was risking pushing her away. No one ever said love made you smarter.) But apparently, he really was officially a grown-up, if the fact that he couldn’t possibly keep his eyes open past 10 (4:45 is _early_ ) was any indication. Of course, if he’d wanted to go to sleep early, his overworked mind would have kept him awake for hours. Life was just a bitch like that.

“Come on sleepyhead, let’s get you in bed.” Rachel knelt beside him on the couch, one hand curled around his neck and her fingers stroking through the hairs low on the back of his head, and murmured lowly into his ear. He grunted a little and stretched his arms over his head, letting one fall to her shoulders and curl around her little body, pulling her into his side. “No, baby,” she pushed away from him. “You know how much you’ll regret it if you stay here all night. You won’t be able to move your neck at all tomorrow.” Puck groaned but didn’t fight it any farther.

He lifted his arms, signaling for her to ‘help’ him up, and debated pulling her right back down on top of him when she slipped her hands into his. He decided against it, though, and pushed off the couch, looping his arms around her shoulders from behind and walking with her to the bedroom.

“Good night, Noah,” Rachel murmured against his temple once he was settled in the bed, facing her side and curled around the space where she normally fit. “I’ll be in soon. I’m just going to make a cup of tea to settle myself before bed.”

Puck hummed in agreement, letting her get almost out of reach before he started and rolled over, reaching for her and just getting his fingers around hers. “Rach?”

“Yes Noah?” She looked down at him quizzically.

His eyes were wide and more focused than they probably should be, considering he’d been asleep for the past hour or so. “I love you.”

Rachel smiled softly and took a few steps forward, closing the gap that had grown between them when she started to leave the room. “I love you too.” She pressed her mouth gently to the corner of his and pulled the blankets up around him.

Puck woke up on day 48 just a little fuzzy and half convinced he’d dreamed the whole ‘I love you’ thing. He barely even remembered how he got from the couch to the bed. So when he came down the hall to find Rachel, as usual, waiting at the door with his coffee and got that old feeling of home, along with the newer one of just how easy it was to love this woman, he was determined that he wouldn’t walk out the door without being completely sure that it got said.

Rachel sat the coffee on the hall table when he reached her and lifted up onto her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Have a good day.” She tilted her head to lean into his hand when he cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over her cheekbone.

Puck’s other hand fell to her hip, squeezing it gently and pulling her body flush with his. He nudged his nose along hers before pausing, foreheads pressed together and lips centimeters apart. “I love you, Rachel.”

He’d had sex more times than he could begin to count. Hell, he’d taken more virginities than he could count. He’d been present for the birth of a daughter he was forced to give away. He’d proposed, for God’s sake. But right then, that felt like the most intimate moment Puck had ever had, and it scared the shit out of him.

If Rachel felt any of the weight that seemed to be bearing down on him as he waited (only a second or two, but it felt like ages) for her to respond, she didn’t show it. She only smiled up at him with another one of those small, sweet smiles she seemed to have trademarked somewhere along the way and dipped her fingertips into the back of his collar, sending a chill down his spine and making his stomach clench involuntarily. “I love you too, Noah.” She tilted her chin forward until her lips met his, her tongue sneaking out to tickle at his top lip then retreating before he had a chance to draw it into his mouth. She grinned at his barely audible groan of protest and pushed just a little higher onto her toes to peck the tip of his nose. “Now go,” she squeezed his shoulders and backed away, “before you’re late.”

~.~

On day 423, Puck cried – like, out loud and with actual tears – for the first time since, well, as long as he could remember, really.

“Hey babe,” Puck trudged into the apartment and kicked off his boots, nearly two and a half hours later than usual, “longest fucking day _ever_.” He didn’t make it more than three steps past the door before he had peeled his t-shirt from his body and was fanning himself with his undershirt. He considered stripping down to his boxer-briefs right there in the hall, but decided to wait until he got to the bathroom and could jump straight into a cool shower. “And it’s almost October, shouldn’t it be fall by now, for fucksakes? It’s hot as _balls_ out there, Rach.”

Puck wondered if maybe Rachel was in the bathroom herself. It would make sense, because she was normally at least at the end of the hall waiting for him by the time he finished turning the key in the lock. And, although they had never complained about the effectiveness of the a/c before, the past week had found the stifling late summer heat pushing its way into the apartment until it was nearly as uncomfortable inside as it was outside. He wouldn’t be surprised at all to find her curled up with a book and submerged in a tub of tepid water. He just hoped it was an actual book and not her Kindle, ‘cause he had a feeling he’d make quite a splash when he jumped in with her.

“Sorry I’m late,” he called a little louder than before. “Know that new client I told ya about, snotty little prick?” He didn’t wait for an answer; he knew she knew who he was talking about. “Guess he thinks his money is worth more than my time.”

“Look, Rach,” he was practically yelling at that point, because though he kept getting closer, and his voice kept getting louder, Rachel still hadn’t responded. He _knew_ she could hear him, so he was left to draw only one conclusion – silent treatment. “I know how late I am, but I came straight home from work. And I’m sorry for not callin’, but I left -,” Puck stopped cold when he got to the entryway of the living room. Rachel looked like she’d just stood from the couch, standing in front of it and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her nose and cheeks were red and puffy, and her eyes were red-rimmed, a steady stream of tears still pouring from them. Puck could see his cell phone clutched between her fingers, her knuckles white around its edges.

Five years earlier, walking into the living room to find his girlfriend holding his phone and crying would have had him throwing up his hands and saying ‘fuck it.’ But he wasn’t worried about Rachel possibly having found some incriminating evidence on his phone that would have caused her to break down in the middle of their apartment. One – Rachel didn’t snoop. Two – there was nothing to find. Seriously, he hadn’t even put a passcode on the thing until a few weeks back when they’d been at a barbecue at Abe and Evie’s. He’d handed the phone off to Abe’s youngest grandchild – a little boy not quite two – to play with and the kid hadn’t had it in his hand for five minutes before he managed to pull up some pictures of Rachel from their vacation in the Gulf that, while not exactly _dirty,_ weren’t exactly for public consumption either. But seriously, he had nothing to hide from his girl. He may have been a shit boyfriend to other girls in the past – undependable, sometimes unfaithful, generally just an asshole – but he’d spent the past year or so making up for all that with Rachel.

“Baby?” He quickened his steps and reached her in a second. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Rachel shook her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks, and held the phone out to him. Puck took it from her and sat it on the end table without even looking at it. “Rachel,” his voice had a frantic edge to it as he cupped her cheeks with his hands and attempted, unsuccessfully, to ebb the flow of her tears with his thumbs. “Please talk to me. Please?” He pulled her forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, waiting for her to say something.

“You left your phone at home,” she finally choked out around a broken sob and a couple hiccups.

Puck nodded and tried to pull her closer, his hands sliding over her shoulders and down to her elbows, but she shrugged him off and backed away, putting a few steps’ distance between them.

“I’d like you to sit down, Noah,” she was still crying, but those words came out clearer than the previous ones. Puck only shook his head at her, waiting for her to continue. “Sarah called,” she stuttered the words and the tears started to flow heavily again. “And you know I don’t -,” she stopped to wipe her face with the back of her hands, “I don’t normally answer your phone.” He passed her handful of tissues and she offered a weak attempt at a smile. “But I could see that it was Sarah, and she was so persistent – calling one time right after another – so I thought just this once – Noah, will you please sit down?” She pleaded and gestured to the chair just behind him.

“Rachel, come on, just fuckin’ tell me what the hell’s goin’ on here! Shit.” He winced when he saw her flinch and take another step back. “I’m sorry babe,” he reached for her and waited as she took a tentative step forward. “Just – ya gotta stop this and just tell me what’s going on. Are Sarah and Aaron okay?”

Rachel nodded just slightly and cleared her throat to continue. “It’s … Noah, it’s your mother.”

Puck’s hands reflexively balled into fists and his shoulders tensed. “What about ma? She okay? My dad didn’t show up again did he?” He ground his teeth together and turned his gaze away from her just a little. “I _knew_  I shoulda kicked his ass last time when I had the chance.” He jumped when Rachel’s hand landed softly on his shoulder.

“Noah,” she waited for him to face her fully. “It wasn’t your father.” She shook her head slowly.

Puck didn’t acknowledge the first two tears that slipped out when his body seemed to understand what Rachel was telling him before his mind caught up.

“I’m so sorry Noah.” She took another step closer to him and slid her hand down his arm until her fingers circled his wrist.

“No.” He glared down at her tear-stained face. “NO!”

“I – I don’t even know what to say, No-,”

He jerked his arm out of her grasp and turned away from her until she was left staring at his profile. “I said, no,” he ground out.

Rachel ignored his protests, stepping closer to him again and wrapping one hand around his fist, the other falling flat onto his stomach. “The doctor told Sarah it was an aneurism. It was very sudden, instantaneous, really, so she didn’t -,” She stopped speaking and choked on a sob when Puck’s hand slipped from hers and his body crumpled into a heap on the floor, supported only by the chair behind him. Without a word, she lowered to her knees beside him and reached again for his hand. Fist clenched and knuckles white, Puck swept his arm out to push her away, but Rachel only caught his fist between both of her small hands. She massaged the back of his hand with her thumbs, his jaw ticking in a painful effort at grinding his teeth, until his fingers began to loosen.

When a gap finally started to form between his fingers and his palm, Rachel pushed her own hand into Puck’s. She continued massaging his hand, pushing her thumbs in long, smooth strokes upward from his wrist. She still didn’t speak as the tears rolled freely down his face, biting her lower lip when he reached, free hand still balled into a fist, to push away the moisture that burned into his skin. He finally managed to relax his hand somewhat and she lifted it to her mouth and pressed her lips into his palm, alternating between gentle kisses and whispered words of apology. She didn’t move when he slid his hand across her cheek and to the back of her neck, her own hands moving to grip his shirt as he pulled her none-too-gently into his lap.

“I’m so sor-,” again Rachel was cut off when Puck only shook his head and wrapped his arms tight around her waist, pulling her body flush against his and burying his face in her shoulder. She pulled her arms from between their bodies and wound them around his shoulders, one hand falling to rub gentle circles over his back and the other lifting, her nails scratching over his scalp from top to bottom and back again. The couple sat like that for more minutes than either of them wanted to count – Rachel balanced on Puck’s outstretched legs and cradling his head to her body, murmuring and sometimes even singing into his ear as his tears soaked into the fabric of her tank top.

“What’d you say it was?” Puck’s voice was hoarse when he finally spoke again. It actually surprised him when it came out; he almost wondered for a second if it was actually his own.

He couldn’t remember a time that he’d cried openly before. Sure, he’d thrown a temper tantrum of sorts when his dad left, slamming doors and kicking whatever he could reach. There had probably been some angry tears in there somewhere, but even at seven, he hadn’t truly cried. Ten years later, he spent a lot of time alone after signing Beth’s adoption papers, and more than once he’d had to swallow down a baseball-sized lump in his throat. But again, no real crying. But this, this was his _mom_. His mom, who’d been there for every F on his report cards, every fight, every stupid decision. She’d been there for it all, and though more than once she’d tried to literally smack some sense into him with a palm to the back of his head, she had never given up on him. Sometimes he thought he wished she would, if only so he could stop disappointing her. But she refused. And then when he started turning things around – actually going to class, spending his pool cleaning money on things other than dip and nunchucks, hell, even getting solos in glee – she was his number one fan. (One guess at who number two was.) That support continued for the next 10 years, through the ups and downs that followed him out of high school. It didn’t go away once he went to New York, it just seemed that he had finally gotten his act together and needed less pushing and got more cheering. (Again, one guess who helped make sure it stayed that way.)

“An aneurism? That’s like, in your brain, right?”

“Noah,” Rachel continued running her hand over his head where it still rested on her shoulder, his hot breath fanning across her throat as he spoke. “We don’t have to talk about this right now.”

“That’s what it is, right?”

Rachel sighed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Yes. That’s what it is.”

“And what,” he turned his face a little farther into her shoulder, “… is there a _cause_? I mean,” he cleared his throat, “is it like, stress-related or something?”

“God no!” Rachel gasped and gripped his cheeks between her hands, pulling his face away from her body and up until his eyes begrudgingly met hers. “It’s nothing like that.” She lowered her face until the tip of her nose brushed his. “ _Nothing._ Do you hear me?” Puck nodded. “It’s just … It’s something many, many people have in their bodies. And many of those people live their entire lives without any kind of problem. But for some of those people – and it’s nearly impossible to know who or why, there are no signs, no warnings – well, it bursts. But – Noah, look at me,” she waited until his eyes, which had drifted across the room, came back to hers, “nothing you did caused this. This is not your fault. Do you understand me?” He nodded once, weakly. “It’s _not_.”

“I just … I was an asshole. You know. You were there.” He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “I spent half my life bein’ a complete fuckin’ asshole, and she was always there to pick up the pieces. She was one ‘a two people in the whole goddamn world who thought I could be better but never like, cut me down or wrote me off when I screwed up. And now that I finally got my shit together,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “she’s not gonna be around to see it. She’s never gonna see our place,” he dropped his forehead back to her collarbone. “I won’t get to tell her when I take over the shop ‘cause Abe retires. Or – fuck, I dunno – like, start my own guitar school or somethin’.” Puck squeezed his eyes closed, but it did nothing to curb the tears starting to flow again. “She’s not gonna get to see it when I finally marry you. Or when we make awesome little Jewish grandbabies for her.”

“Shh.” Rachel’s voice shuddered a little and she blinked as tears of her own began to fall, letting her cheek fall to the top of his head. “She will Noah. She’ll see all of it.”

He let her comfort him, running her hands over his back and head and humming to him, for a minute before his brain when into overdrive again. “Oh shit,” it was as if he could feel the panic literally rising in his throat. Whatever calming effect Rachel’s words had managed to have on him after his last little outburst was completely overruled by his next thought. “She’s alone, isn’t she? I mean, Indy’s like, three hours from Lima, and I’m here, and fuck Rachel, she’s alone. She’s not supposed to be -,”

“She’s not alone, Noah.” She spoke softly and rested her hands on either side of his neck, her thumbs stroking the underside of his jaw as she pulled back to watch his eyes closely. “I called my daddy as soon as I got off the phone with Sarah. He was going to stay with her until Sarah got to the hospital to have her released and take her to the temple. And she had been at work, so her friend Margaret stayed with her until Daddy got there.”

“But I should be with her.” He broke her gaze and began to fidget with the hem of her top – anything to avoid looking at her as he continued. “I didn’t wanna let her down anymore.”

Rachel hiccupped a little and pressed her face into the top of his head. He knew she was trying to keep him from hearing her sobs, but it didn’t really work. “She loved you _so_ much,” she was whispering and he thought maybe this was killing her almost as much as it was killing him. “And this, you being here, doing what you’re doing, this is what she wanted for you. Don’t even consider telling yourself otherwise.”

“Hey,” she straightened her back after about a minute and swiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands, “so I got plane tickets for tomorrow afternoon and for late Wednesday morning; I wasn’t sure which you would want to do.” She paused, giving him time to respond, he guessed, and when he didn’t, she continued. “Sarah and Aaron were driving over as soon as they could get packed and everything, so she was planning to go to the hospital and talk to the doctor, see if there was anything to be taken care of there. She’s going to be staying at your-the house. She said we’re welcome to stay there with them, of course, but if that makes you uncomfortable, I know my dads would more than welcome us staying with them.”

“Us?” He looked up at her through bloodshot eyes. “You’re goin’ with me?”

“Well,” Rachel’s brows furrowed, “of course I am. Now, I know you’re used to dealing with things on your own, and maybe it makes you feel vulnerable or uncomfortable  or something to feel like I’m looking after you or trying to take care of you, but I won’t let you do this alone. Even if we get to Ohio and you send me off to my dads’ and don’t see me for the rest of the trip, you’ll know I’m there if you need me.”

“I want you there.” His eyes were wide and earnest as he stared back at her.

“Oh.”

“Honestly, I don’t know if I could do it all without you there. I just,” Puck looked away for a second, almost sheepishly, “I thought – ya know, with the workshop and everything.”

“The workshop will still be here when we get back. They’ll survive without me for a week or so.” She trailed her fingertips lightly from his shoulders to the crooks of his elbows and settled her hands there. “I already talked to my director. I told her I needed to be with you and – and our family right now. She understood, just told me to call her when I get back into town.”

“I love you Rachel.” He slid his hands up her back and pulled her head forward to press his lips to her forehead, not pulling back as he continued to speak. “I love you so damn much baby. Thank you.”

~.~

On day 424, Puck went back to Lima for the first time in over a year.

Puck loved his ma, obviously, but other than her, there was nothing for him in Lima. (He did recognize the irony in the fact that now that he was going back, she wasn’t really there anymore.) Rachel had been in New York for so long that she was used to being away, and her dads visited regularly (four times since he’d moved in), so she certainly wasn’t pushing for a trip back to Ohio. Of course he’d missed his mom and sister, but they kept saying they’d come up together to visit him and Rachel whenever they could get some vacation time to line up. Puck even offered to pay for the plane tickets. The time never lined up. Sarah came up once for the day when Aaron had a conference in Philadelphia, but Puck hadn’t seen his mom since the day he backed out of her driveway and headed for what he planned to be his new start.

Needing to be with his sister and in his mom’s house as soon as possible, Puck told Rachel as they lay on the couch the previous night, the room dark except for the street light slipping in the wide living room window, that he wanted to use the earliest tickets she had gotten. She just nodded and stroked his arm until he fell asleep.

“You didn’t wake me up.” Puck padded into the bathroom behind her and scrubbed his palm over his scalp as he watched her through the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth, damp hair cascading over her shoulders.

She nodded, pulling the toothbrush from her mouth and taking a second to spit out the foamy bubbles. “You were exhausted.”

He stepped just behind her and rested his hands on her hips, pressing his lips slowly into the back of her head. “Thanks.” He slid his hands across her stomach until his arms wrapped around her waist and his chest pressed into her back. “Guess I should go pack.” Puck let his cheek fall to the top of Rachel’s head.

She shook her head gently. “I already did that. You may want to double-check me a bit, but I believe I got everything you would need or want.”

“Oh. Alright then. Well, I should prob’ly call Abe and tell him what’s up. Ya know, let him know I won’t be around for a couple days.”

“I took care of that too. You’ve got two weeks off. With pay.” She laid her hands on his forearms and squeezed. “Go eat. There’s waffles, bacon,” Puck lifted his head to look down at her in shock, “fresh fruit you probably won’t eat – to be honest, I didn’t know if you’d feel like eating anything at all, but it’s there. There’s coffee, too, of course, so if nothing else-,”

“You’re incredible.”

“I’m here, Noah, every step of the way. Don’t forget that.” Rachel turned in his arms and kissed his chest firmly, just over his heart.

Hiram picked them up from the airport that afternoon. Sarah offered, but Puck knew she was already handling a lot since she had gotten there almost a full day before him and Rachel. He could hear the stress in her voice when she told him that she could ‘work out’ coming to Columbus to get them. That, of course, really meant that she would send Aaron, since he doubted she had left the temple since she finished taking care of whatever stuff she’d had to do as next of kin the previous night. And if Sarah was sitting with their mother, that meant Aaron was left taking care of everything else, including, most importantly, looking after his wife, Puck’s baby sister. Rachel had already talked to her dads, who seemed almost eager to do something, _anything_ , so he told her to let Mr. Berry know they’d take him up on his offer to give them a ride.

Puck knew, as much as it may have bothered him to admit it even to himself (although he was coming to terms with it more very second), that he needed Rachel. He needed her beside him to keep him from falling apart while he dealt with burying his mother and facing everyone and everything that came along with that. But he also knew that he and Sarah needed their time. So, he called his little sister and asked her to have Aaron sit with their mom, just for a little while, so they could spend some time together at the house when he got in. Then he told Rachel he thought it would be good if she spent a few hours with her dads and asked Mr. Berry to drop him off at his old house. Rachel looked at him, concern in her eyes, but he assured her that was what he needed and she just smiled and nodded. When they got there, she walked him to the house, hugging Sarah and kissing her cheek quickly when the younger woman met them at the door. Rachel then kissed him softly, her lips lingering against his and her fingertips brushing across his cheeks, before telling him she’d see him after dinner and heading back to her father’s car.

Puck was sprawled across his old bed, the television on but his eyes focused on the ceiling, when Rachel got back.

She stood in the doorway and watched him. “So, uh, I saw Sarah and Aaron when I came in. Should I call my fathers to go to the temple? Or maybe you would like me to go. I mean, I’ve always cared about your mother, and she’s become family to me too.”

Puck shook his head. “Aunt Bekah got in today. Came by to feed me and Sarah then went over and sent Aaron back home so we could all be together for a little while. She’s stayin’ till mornin’ then I’m gonna go over ‘till the funeral. I, umm” he shifted his eyes to watch the tip of his index finger trace the stitches of the quilt, one his mom had made him when he was a boy, “I was kinda hopin’ you’d come with me. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course Noah. I already told you, every step of the way.”

“Right.” He still wasn’t used to all that; he’d never really had it before he got Rachel. “Thank you.” He folded his hands together over his stomach and focused back on the ceiling. “So, have a good time with daddies Berry?”

She nodded and walked into the room. “It’s always lovely to spend time with them. The mood was considerably different from normal, given the circumstances, but I can’t complain about the opportunity to see them.”

“That’s nice.” Puck’s voice was distant; his mind wasn’t entirely in the conversation.

“Are you okay, Noah?” She sat her purse on the desk along the wall and walked to him, brows furrowed. “I mean, you know, considering.”

“Come sit down, Rach.” He pushed himself up and moved to the foot of the bed until his feet touched the floor. Rachel sat next to him, one hand splayed across his thigh. “I umm, I’m sorry. About last night.” He didn’t look at her, but he saw her head cock to the side out of the corner of his eye.

“Noah, I … I don’t understand.”

“I’m sposed to be strong, Rachel. And I mean, I’m not in high school anymore. I’ve grown up a lot, and I know it doesn’t make me like, a pussy to be in love with you or to want you around, or even to need you. But I’m not sposed to break down like that. I’m not supposed to lose control; I just, I’m sposed to be stronger than that.”

“Look at me, Noah.” Rachel turned her body into his, the hand on his leg moving up to the base of his neck and her other hand taking its place. “You’re the strongest person I know.” She squeezed the back of his neck when his head dropped forward. “I mean it, Noah. I don’t know anyone else who has been through the things you’ve been through, and you’ve turned out to be a wonderful, incredible man. Everyone who knows you knows how strong you are, but that doesn’t mean we expect you not to feel things. No one expects you not to hurt.”

Puck turned his head into her hand, stopping when his lips hit the inside of her wrist. He sat that way for a minute, Rachel’s fingers stroking the back of his head and his lips whispering silent ‘I love yous’ into her arm. He pressed a kiss to her skin before he pulled away from her and stood. “There was something else I need to fix.” He faced her and shoved his hands into his back pockets.

“Noah, I’ve told you -,”

“Just,” he held up a hand to stop her, “just let me do this, okay?” She nodded. “Okay. So, I was upset last night.” He shook his head a little. “Still upset.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “But anyway. I said some stuff I shouldn’ta said.” He began to pace in front of her. “I mean, not that I didn’t mean it, ‘cause I meant it, ‘cause I’m seriously in love with you. But I shouldn’ta said it like _that_. I know we never actually talked about it before,” he stopped just in front of her and pulled his hands from his pockets and stared down at them, the left one subtly pressing chords into his stomach and the right, balled loosely, gently strumming out the imaginary melody, “but I _do_ want to marry you, Rachel. I want to marry you and have badass little Jewish babies with my eyes and your smile. Dammit,” he muttered under his breath. _Not the point._ “Okay, the point is Rachel, I want to marry you. I’ve wanted to for a long time, in fact. Like, I’ve had a ring hidden in my grandpa’s old Army trunk in the back of my closet for two months. So, I don’t want you to think this is some ‘Oh no, look how short life is, I don’t wanna end up alone,’ bullshit.” His hands clenched into fists and dropped to his sides, but he still didn’t look up at her. Puck could only imagine what was going through Rachel’s mind, and if she was sitting there thinking he was a complete idiot, he didn’t want to see that on her face. “I just, I was waiting, ‘cause I wanted it to be the right time and I wanted it to be perfect for you – and fuck, I _know_ this isn’t perfect for you, but Sarah gave me Ma’s ring, and it was Nana Connie’s ring before that, and there’s just something about having this ring,” he curled his right hand tighter around the ring in his palm, “and being in this house for probably the last time ever, and knowing how much she wanted this for me.” Puck dropped to one knee in front of her, staring at her feet as his left hand curled around her calf. “Rachel, I’m sorry. I know you deserve some grand gesture, some magical proposal along with a confession of my undying love, but I hope you know that even though I may have messed up, like, the presentation,” he took a deep breath and extended his right hand to her, palm open so that she could see the ring that had been passed through generations of his family, finally looking up at her at the same time, “all the feelings and stuff – Shit.” He stopped when he really took in her face – the tears streaming down her cheeks and the way she chewed her bottom lip. “I totally fucked this up, didn’t I? I been waitin’ two fuckin’ months, and this is what I do? Shit! I’m sorry, Rach.”

“Noah.” He barely heard her over his own ranting. Her voice was just above a whisper.

“You know what,” he closed his hand back around the ring and rubbed his other palm on his jeans, “let’s just forget about this, okay?”

“Noah.” She was louder that time, but he still ignored her.

“We’ll pretend I didn’t do this.” He sat back on his heels. “We’ll go back to New York and I’ll go back to planning your epic proposal and -,”

“Noah!” It was impossible to ignore her when she screamed at him and grabbed his right arm, which was quickly heading back toward his pocket. He stopped and stared at her as she laughed through her tears. “Will you just give me my ring already?”

“Seriously?”

She nodded and Puck lunged for her, keeping a tight grip on the ring with his right hand and burying the left in her hair as his mouth met hers. He moaned a little when his teeth skimmed across her bottom lip and she responded by nipping back at him. When his left hand tightened around her neck, his right did the same around the ring, and the sharp sting he felt when the diamond dug into his palm reminded him of just exactly what he was doing. He kissed her one more time then pulled away, pulling her trembling left hand from his chest and drawing it up to his mouth before slowly sliding the ring onto her finger. He stared at her hand, watching his thumb rub over the ring that he had seen his entire life but never actually appreciated until then.

“You’re gonna marry me, Rachel Berry,” he whispered, still staring down at her hand.

“I’m going to marry you, Noah Puckerman,” she whispered back, smiling when he looked up at her and grinned.

Puck jumped to his feet, grabbing her face with both hands as he kissed her and lowered her back onto the bed. When Rachel squeezed his arms then pulled back, panting but smiling, he leaned in to peck her once on the forehead then propped himself up on his elbows and turned his head toward the door. “She said yes!” he yelled so loudly that Rachel flinched.

“No shit!” Sarah’s sarcastic voice floated down the hall.

“Shocker,” Aaron deadpanned at almost the exact same moment.

Puck dropped his forehead to the mattress beside Rachel’s head then rolled off her to lie on his side facing her. “I guess they’re not surprised,” he smirked.

Rachel rolled onto her side to look back at him before giggling. “It would appear that way.” She tucked one hand under her cheek and rested the other over his heart.

Puck’s hand found its way onto her hip, his thumb slipping under her top to rub small circles on her side as he watched her close her eyes and sigh happily. “Rachel?” He frowned a little. “Is this wrong?”

“Getting cold feet already, Puckerman?” She smiled playfully, but he could see a hint of worry when she opened her eyes.

“’Course not.” He tugged at her hip and dragged her body closer to his. “You’re stuck with me now.” He leaned forward to kiss her when she puckered her lips at him. “I just … Is it okay for us to be this happy right now?”

“Oh Noah,” she rubbed her hand a little over his heart. “Your mother loved you and your sister more than anything in the world, and everything she did was to try to make sure you two would be happy. So no, I don’t think it’s wrong.”

“Thank you.” He leaned forward to kiss her again, lingering a bit longer this time, and when he pulled back, it was just far enough that their noses no longer touched. “She loved you too, ya know.”

It was true. For as long as Puck could remember, his mom had been pushing him toward Rachel in one way or another. He always just assumed it was because she was a ‘good little Jewish girl,’ but looking back, he thought maybe she always just knew. She knew that Rachel calmed him, helped make him a better person – or, at least, a better version of himself. She knew Rachel was the real reason things never went completely back to normal between him and Finn, even once the Quinn thing was basically water under the bridge. She even knew that Rachel was the invisible pull dragging him to New York before he even really realized that was where he was going.

“The feeling was mutual, I assure you. She was a wonderful woman.”

Puck nodded his agreement, then closed his eyes and chuckled under his breath. “She could be a pain in the ass though.”

“Noah!” Rachel gasped and smacked his chest. She tried to look scandalized, but he could tell she wasn’t really upset. He guessed, knowing her, that she was too happy to see him happy, under the circumstances, to actually get angry about his little joke.

“Mean it babe. Lemme tell ya what she did when I first moved to New York. I called her the day after I started staying with you while you were at your show. First, I said, ‘Hey ma, guess what, Rachel’s here,’ and all she said was, ‘I know.’ So I tried again,” Puck rolled his eyes at the memory. “I said, ‘Yeah, but not just like, _in New York_ here. Like, I saw her last night. Went to her show then took her out for coffee.”

“You did not -,”

“Hush woman,” he clamped a hand over her mouth and she glared at him, “my story. Anyway, know what she said to that?” Rachel shook her head and he moved his hand back to her waist. “She said, ‘Okay,’ just all casual and shit. Like it hadn’t been 10 years since you’d left. Like she thought I just went up there and went looking for you or something.” She smirked back at him and he tickled her side. “So I figured, fine, she wanted to be like that, I could play her game too. I was trying to ease her into it or whatever, but screw that. So I basically just said, ‘Ma, I’m shackin’ up with Rachel Berry.’ And when it was all said and done, she actually just sounded disappointed when I convinced her we really were just friends and that I was sleepin’ in the guest room.”

Rachel let out a small giggle and clamped her own hand over her mouth. “Sorry.” She smiled at him sheepishly once she had composed herself. “So what did she say when you told her we were together?”

Puck grinned and slid his hand around to her back. “Well, the first thing I thought on my way to work after you kissed me – _after_ I stopped tasting your lip gloss on my tongue, cause that was giving me a whole different kinda thoughts – was ‘Ma’s gonna _love_ this.’ So I didn’t tell her for like a month.” He grinned at his own cleverness, but Rachel chastised him and tried to roll away. Instead of letting her, he rolled onto his back and used the hand on her waist to bring her with him. “It was payback for expectin’, and actually _wantin’_ , me to go up there and hook up with you on day one,” he told her once she was settled on top of him, her hands folded on his chest and her chin resting on them. “B’sides, I wasn’t ready to share you yet.” Rachel squinted and looked at him curiously. “I told you Rach, she loved you. I knew as soon as I told her she’d be all over it – wantin’ to know shit, wantin’ to talk to you – I wanted to have you all to myself for a little while.”

“Oh Noah.” She laid her head down so that her ear rested over his heart and he wound his arms tight around her waist. “You don’t even need to worry about that. No matter what, I’m all yours.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Even when I fuck up?”

She trailed her fingers up his chest and over his collarbone as she turned her head to kiss his chest. “Especially then. And no matter what you think about yourself, you should know that I’m always going to find you strong, and wonderful, and basically perfect. Because you’re mine.”

**_I may not have the softest touch  
I may not say the words as such  
And though I may not look like much  
I'm yours_ **

On day 547, Puck gave half of himself to another person, totally and completely. And officially.

Rachel’s idea of wedding planning had shocked him. First, she hadn’t mentioned it at all the entire week they were in Lima. Of course, she had laid her left hand flat across the kitchen table at breakfast the next morning when Sarah demanded to see how the Puckerman ring looked on “the newest member of the family,” and no matter how hard she tried (he could see her biting the inside of her cheek), out of careful consideration for the circumstances that had brought them there, she couldn’t contain her grin every time Puck introduced her to some distant relative or family friend as his fiancé. But that was the extent of it. It almost worried him. Shouldn’t she be, like, gushing over flowers and dresses and place settings?

Of course, things ramped up a little once they got back to New York. He sometimes came home from work to hear her talking to her dads, or even his sister, about colors and hairstyles. He’d had to duck into the kitchen once to keep her from seeing his grin when he overheard her telling her dad that wearing her hair down was “non-negotiable” because that was how he liked it. But more often than not, the parts of the conversation that he could hear consisted mostly of Rachel dismissing someone’s ideas for being too fancy, or too over-the-top, or just plain too much. He asked her one day, about a week after they got home, how the wedding planning was going and if there was anything she wanted him to do, but she just shook her head and said, “Everything’s fine Noah. You’ve already taken care of the best part, now all you have to do is show up and be you.”

Eventually, he’d broken down and asked what he really wanted to know, which was why in the hell he was engaged to Rachel freakin’ Berry, and she wasn’t freaking out over every little detail of the wedding. He’d finally had to admit that it scared him, because Rachel getting to plan a wedding, and not going nuts about it, made him wonder if the idea of marrying him just wasn’t something worth going nuts over. She reassured him over a long conversation that ended with her in his lap on the couch and just as many kisses as words being exchanged between them. Turned out she just wasn’t into the idea of a big, extravagant wedding that would take a year to plan and just wouldn’t be _them_. He got that, loved it about her, in fact, and that conversation flowed right into one about just how long their engagement should be. Rachel’s answer was “just until I have a good opportunity to get away from the show.” Since Puck’s answer was, “as short as fuckin’ possible,” it worked.

So they planned their small wedding that was all them, and in January, when Rachel had a few week break between the workshops for the show and the start of rehearsals, they packed for Ohio and Spain and set off for their simple Jewish wedding with its bridal party of two – Puck’s sister on his side and Rachel’s college roommate and _Mamma Mia_ co-star Makayla on hers. Rachel insisted, the one thing other than her hair that she really _insisted_ on, that they get married in the temple they both grew up in by a Rabbi who had retired about a year earlier. Puck knew that was all about his mom – neither of them was particularly religious – but he never brought it up. There were a lot of things Rachel had done for him over the past year and a half that he never brought up. He just tried every way he knew how to show her how much he appreciated and loved her for it.

Sarah turned out to be the awesomest best man in like, the history of ever. He really shouldn’t have been surprised, considering all the DNA they shared. She picked him, Rachel, and Makayla up at the airport and dropped the girls off at the Berry house before shuttling him to the one decent hotel in Lima, where she’d gotten them adjoining rooms, to get ready for the rehearsal. She’d even planned a kick-ass, if hilariously awkward, bachelor party that started at the one bar in town Puck could never get into high school and ended at the one strip club in town, period, and had a guest list consisting of Sarah and himself, Aaron, Artie, Blaine, Sam, Mike, and Finn. Except, when it came time to leave the bar and head for the strip club, Puck looked at Sarah and told her he really just wanted to go back to the hotel. She called him a pussy but then nodded and smiled, telling Aaron to try to make sure none of the others did anything stupid enough to get themselves arrested and screaming at Finn and Sam to “flip for it” when they argued over who got to pretend to be Puck to get the ‘super-special groom lap dances.’

“Sorry,” Sarah started when they were back in his room, each sprawled on one of the queen beds and watching some channel that showed the cartoons they had loved as kids. “I shoulda known it would be too weird, goin’ to a strip club with your little sister.” She lifted one shoulder. “I was just tryin’ to be a good best man.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I mean,” Puck chuckled, “yeah, it woulda been weird. But that’s not why I didn’t wanna go. I woulda just kinda hung back and let the other guys have their fun anyway – it woulda been more for them than me. Oh,” he pointed the remote at her, “and you totally shoulda said Finn could be me down there. Have you _seen_ Sam’s wife?” he asked when she narrowed his eyes questioningly at him. “Finn needs it way more.”

“Anyway,” he continued once they both stopped laughing, “I just … guess _I_ needed _this_ more.”

“Aww, I love you too, big brother,” she laughed and blew him a kiss, ducking the pillow that came flying her way.

“She’s perfect, ya know.” Sarah went on after a long period of comfortable silence. “I mean, she’s _not_ perfect, really. She’s loud, and always right, and even though she’s gotten better, she can still be obnoxiously overbearing sometimes. But she’s perfect for _you_ , big brother.”

“I know,” he smiled, watching the remote spin in his hands. “Thanks.”

On the way out of the hotel the next morning, Puck teased Sarah that she wasted her money getting those adjoining rooms, since she’d still been in the other bed in his room when he woke up. “Come on, big brother,” she’d taunted in the elevator, “had to get in one more sleepover before Hell freezes over.”

“Hey!” he protested. “When did I ever say I wasn’t getting married?”

Sarah looked up to the ceiling and started ticking off her fingers. “Second grade. Third grade – your birthday _and_ Hanukkah.” She pointed at him, “Well, every grade until you graduated, for that matter. And then every other day until you proposed to Bitch-Face. It did ebb off to about twice a week after that. Ow!” She screeched when he hit her on the shoulder as they exited into the lobby. “Noah! You’re not supposed to hit girls!” She glared at him and rubbed the tender spot on the top of her arm.

“You’re not a girl,” he snorted. “You’re my best man, remember?” He stuck out his tongue at her and she mimicked the action.

He was right about part of that, at least, and even though the bachelor party was over and the main event had basically arrived, he was learning that Sarah had no plans to stop being the ‘awesomest best man ever.’ The giant purse he had teased her mercilessly about contained snacks, a stain remover pen (“For when you inevitably drop some of that food on your suit.”), a few handkerchiefs that he insisted he wouldn’t need until she pointed out that they weren’t exactly for him, and a flask full of Jack Daniels. The flask was much more beneficial to his high school buddies than it was to him (hair of the dog, and all that), but he did take one shot early enough in the day that it would be out of his system by the time the ceremony started. He didn’t necessarily need it, but they all insisted that he had to, for like tradition or old time’s sake or whatever, so he toasted to his past and his future and him and Rachel and his mom and, hell, he was pretty sure he even toasted to glee by the time they all finished shouting things out, and tipped back the flask while the guys and Sarah and Aaron all did the same with their shot glasses. Most of all, though, it was awesome that his best man was a girl, because it meant she had full access to the bride’s changing room. And he was pretty sure that the best thing about his best man being his sister was that she didn’t make fun of him when he sent her over to give Rachel the earrings he had gotten her as a wedding gift. Or when he wanted to make sure Finn hadn’t started hitting on Makayla yet, ‘cause that would _totally_ piss Rachel off, since she kinda made _him_ promise to make the _guys_ promise that there would be no hooking up, or attempts at hooking up, with her maid of honor until at least after the ceremony (preferably once they were safely on a plane out of the country). Or when he wanted her to check to see that Rachel hadn’t forgotten anything at her dads’ and volunteer Mike and Artie to go get it for her. Or, when he’d run out of excuses, just to make sure that she was still there and that she didn’t plan on going anywhere before they made it official.

To be honest, Puck always thought of himself as the kind of guy who, if Hell ever froze over, to use Sarah’s metaphor, and he did get married, would have to be drunk or sedated and dragged down the aisle. But as he sat in the changing room in the back of the temple, listening to his oldest friends and his little sister laugh at embarrassing stories about himself, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the clock. He willed the hours, the minutes, even the seconds, to go faster. He was ready to kill Sarah for going along with his stupid idea that waiting at the temple would be better than waiting at the hotel. So when there was a quick rap at the door and it opened a few inches to reveal LeRoy Berry on the other side, Puck jumped from the couch that he had nearly picked a hole in. “Alright, see that, Mr. Berry’s here. Time to get this show on the road. Guys, Aaron, everybody but Squirt’s gotta go. See you guys at the end of the show.” He extended his arms to the sides, practically sweeping everyone along with him as he walked toward the door.

“Well, actually Noah, I just came to give you Rachel’s gift. She said you would need it for the reception.” Mr. Berry must have caught on to the pleading look Puck was attempting to send him, because he cleared his throat and continued. “But no, you’re probably right, Noah. I’m sure you boys want to get good seats, you know, before the other guests actually start arriving.” Puck rolled his eyes when LeRoy quirked an amused eyebrow at him. “Oh, and Finn and Samuel, my mother-in-law will be arriving shortly. I’m sure she would appreciate the help of two strapping young men such as yourselves to get up those steep front steps.” He nodded at each of the men as they left and closed the door behind them.

“Did something happen to Rachel’s Bubbe?” Puck was concerned. He didn’t want anything to dampen the day for Rachel. Plus, he kinda liked the kooky old lady. “She didn’t seem to have any trouble getting in and out of the temple for -,” he cleared his throat and glanced over at Sarah before studying his shoes, “last time.”

LeRoy waved dismissively. “Ruth is perfectly fine.” He smiled at the Puckermans conspiratorially. “But it will make her absolutely nuts to have those two insisting on helping her. And it will be positively hilarious when she starts beating them with that monstrosity she calls a handbag. Now,” he straightened his face and reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, producing a small, wrapped box. “The real reason for my little visit – my daughter wanted to make sure you got this before the ceremony. Apparently it is vital for the reception.” He handed Puck the box and clapped him on the shoulder. “See you in about 30 minutes, son.”

Sarah closed the door behind Rachel’s father then rushed to her brother’s side, peering around his arm as he tore the paper off the box. “Wow,” she breathed as Puck lifted the pick out of the plush material it rested in, rubbing it almost reverently between his thumb and forefinger. “I didn’t even know it was possible to imprint on mother of pearl.”

“It’s a laser engraving,” Puck didn’t take his eyes off the iridescent instrument as he spoke quietly to his sister. He studied the pick, the loopy text that he had to squint a little to read and that bore an uncanny resemblance to Rachel’s handwriting standing in stark contrast to the pearly, marbled texture of the background. He smiled to himself, his thumb running lightly over the date and the words “Good times” on the front. After a moment, he flipped it over to confirm that the back read “never felt so good,” this time in a more blocky, jagged font that strongly resembled his own handwriting.

Sarah hip-checked him before walking to the mirror and smoothing back a few stray hairs around her face. “Told ya she was perfect.”

Exactly 27 minutes later, Puck stood under the Chuppah in the front of his childhood temple with Rabbi Meyer, Sarah just behind him, and looked out at about 50 of his and Rachel’s friends and family members. Again, the thought crossed his mind for a second that he should probably feel nervous, or scared, or _something_ , but all he could find in there was impatience for Rachel to come down the aisle so he could say his vows and crush the glass and just marry her already. He waited while Makayla walked down the aisle, after trying to hide his disappointment when the door opened and he remembered that she had to go first. But then the music changed, and the door opened again to reveal Rachel, flanked by her fathers, in a white dress that was way simpler than he had expected but pretty much made her look like an angel, and his heart stopped for a second. He couldn’t breathe and in that moment he kinda felt like he was back in New York in that theater on his second night in the city. It’d been a year and a half, or 15 years, or practically his entire life, depending on how you looked at it, but she still had that effect on him that no one else had.

Puck kind of floated through most of the ceremony. It was like he watched himself step out of the Chuppah to accept Rachel’s hand from Hiram after both he and LeRoy kissed her on her cheeks. He didn’t even taste the wine he sipped from the cup Rabbi Meyer handed him, though he will never forget the drop that lingered on Rachel’s lip as she lowered the cup or the way her tongue just peeked out to wipe it away. He also noticed, and ignored, the reproachful look he received from the Rabbi for breaking tradition (they’d ignored so many already, he guessed, that the guy just wanted them to respect the ones they did keep) when he brought Rachel’s palm to his lips after slipping the simple gold band onto her finger. His head was in some kind of haze as they went through the steps – the Ketubah, the blessings, the second sip of wine that _still_ didn’t make an impression as it flowed over his tongue. It wasn’t that Puck wasn’t interested in the ceremony. He respected and even appreciated the tradition and symbolism of the whole thing. He knew it was important to his family and Rachel’s family, and even Rachel to some extent, and to his mom, even if she wasn’t actually there to tell him so. It was important to him, too, if only because it was just one more thing he shared with Rachel that he’d never shared with anyone else. Thing was, as much as he knew that all this stuff was what really made it a wedding, the thing he was waiting for, the thing that would truly make it _real_ for him, was the vows. Until then, it was almost like they were just putting on a big, pretty show for the audience.

Puck watched, anxiously and impatiently, as Rachel took her own second sip of wine and handed the cup back to the Rabbi. “Now,” he finally drew himself out of his fog and focused as Rabbi Meyer began to speak again, “in addition to the traditional wedding customs, Rachel and Noah have decided,” actually Rachel decided, Puck just agreed because he couldn’t deny her anything to do with the wedding, especially something like this, “to recite their own vows to one another. Rachel?” The Rabbi turned to her and she smiled and nodded.

Rachel beamed up at Puck, and while he knew that it was her years of acting experience that had her ready to recite her vows without a single note or so much as a bat of her an eyelash, he also knew that was not her stage smile. He was getting the pure, unadulterated _I’m so happy right now I might actually burst_ Rachel Berry smile. It was contagious, and he loved it.

“Noah,” she squeezed his hands in her own and lowered her chin, looking up at him almost shyly as he ran his thumb over and over the new ring that he knew she would move from her right index finger to her ring finger as soon as they were out of the temple. “You have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, first as the little boy who stood right out there,” she nodded her head toward the back of the temple and the playground that still sat beyond the wall, “and told another little boy he wasn’t allowed to look at me anymore after he stole the ribbons out of my hair and made me cry, then eventually as a true and cherished friend, and finally, for the past year and a half, as the man who I can’t imagine a single second of my life without.” Puck reached across the short distance between them to collect a tear on his thumb, smiling softly when she leaned into his touch. “And every moment, Noah, since that first day, I’ve admired you. I’ve admired your strength, and your loyalty, and your talent, and even your ironically attractive bad-boy image,” she giggled and he couldn’t help but laugh with her. “But most of all, I’ve admired your heart,” she pulled her hand from his and pressed it to his chest. “And for more years than I can really even calculate for sure, I’ve loved you and your wonderful heart, in one way or another. Now,” she sniffled a little and rolled her eyes when she accepted the handkerchief he held out to her after Sarah kicked the back of his foot, “now I’m so absolutely,” her voice shook, “completely in love with you that I can barely stand it. So today, and for the rest of our lives, I plan to prove that to you and to give everything I have to try to make you as happy as I get to be, all because I’m lucky enough to call you mine.”

Puck took back his handkerchief after she wiped her eyes one last time and held it out to him, balling it in his fist and shoving it roughly into his pocket. “First,” he cleared his throat, trying to push down the lump inside it so he could speak, “close your eyes, Rabbi, you might not like this part.” He cupped Rachel’s face in his hands and kissed her soundly but gently, his lips pressing firmly against hers but his tongue not trying to push through. He pulled back when he heard their guests laugh, nuzzling his nose against hers before straightening. He clapped the Rabbi on the shoulder. “Alright, coast is clear.” Rabbi Meyer had covered his eyes with one hand, to humor him, Puck assumed, since he wore a small smile. “Now,” he cleared his throat again and dug into his breast pocket, his fingers brushing the smooth surface of his new guitar pick as he fished out his notes. “Sorry babe, I’m not as good as you,” he winked. “Okay, I know we were ‘sposed to write our own vows,” he threw up his hands when Rachel glared playfully at him and the guests laughed again, “and I did! Mostly.” He tried to look sheepish as the laughs continued. “Anyway, you know words, or talkin’, at least, have never been my thing. So I may have borrowed just a little.” He glanced down at the index card in the hand that wasn’t gripping Rachel’s. “Rachel, for the past year and a half, you been everything for me. You’ve been my cheerleader and my number one fan. You’ve been my best friend, even when I didn’t deserve the cheerleading part. You’ve been my _home_. And every time I’ve been upset, or hurt, or down on myself, or even scared, you’ve promised me that everything would be okay, that nothing else mattered to you as long as I was yours. Well, someone who’s a lot better than me with words came up with these a long time ago, but they’re basically everything I feel every morning when I wake up and realize you’re still a part – the _best_ part – of my life, so for today, I’m makin’ ‘em mine.  
 ** _Though my edges may be rough  
I never feel I'm quite enough   
It may not seem like very much  
But I'm yours”  
_** He watched Rachel, forgetting the card in his hand, as he recited the decade-old song lyrics. He twisted his wrist, turning his hand to interlock their fingers and bringing her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckle just above his family’s ring as he finished. “Rachel, every time that you’ve told me that nothing else mattered – not my past or any of my shortcomings or my mistakes – that everything would be okay because I was yours, you were right. Every day, for the rest of our lives Rachel, I’m yours.”

**_I may not have the softest touch  
I may not say the words as such  
I know I don't fit in that much  
But I'm yours_ **


End file.
